SALEM,    THE     HABITATION    OF    PEACE 

"  'T  is  the  home  of  our  childhood  !    The  beautiful  spot 
Which  memory  retains  when  all  else  is  forgot." 


OUR    FIRST 

OLD   HOME   DAY 

i,  |ttafne 


AUGUST  SEVENTEENTH 
1904 


PUBLISHED   BY 

D.  C.  HEATH  &f  COMPANY 

120    BOYLSTON    STREET,    BOSTON 
1905 


. 


COPYRIGHT,    1905,   BV 
D.  C.  HEATH   &   CO. 


TO   OLD   SALEM 

BY  EDNA  WORTHLEY  UNDERWOOD 

Great-grand-daughter  of  Albert  Hayford 

I  know  a  little  village  in  the  north 

Whose  green  fields  now  the  white  spring-flowers  storm 

In  curling  waves  of  snow-white  daisy-foam, 

Up-beating  fierce  in  Spring's  abandonment, 

Till  all  the  lonely  little  village  streets 

Are  flecked  with  fragrant  foam. 

I  know  a  little  village  in  the  north 

From  off  whose  rampart  heights  the  clarion  spring 

Flings  far  her  yellow-throated  messages 

And  fair  flower-blazoned  heraldry, 

Till  all  the  lonely  little  village  streets 

Are  sweet  with  minstrelsy. 

I  know  a  little  village  in  the  north 
Which  Abram  shields  against  the  winter's  storm, 
Bold-squaring  his  broad  shoulders  to  the  blast, 
Kind  sentinel,  faithful  unto  the  trust 
Of  guarding  all  the  sheltered  homes  below 
Where  the  Quick  River  runs, 
v 


Co 


I  know  a  little  village  in  the  north 
Sweet  all  midsummer-time  with  scent  of  pine  ; 
There,  checkerberries  redden  in  the  wood, 
By  the  road-side  black-beaded  berries  grow 
Which  other  children  —  as  I  loved  to  do  — 
Now  string  on  meadow  grass. 

To  thee,  old  Salem,  thought  turns  longingly, 
(While  sun-bright  are  the  warm  mid- August  days) 
To  Salem  with  its  girdle  of  blue  hills, 
To  old  schoolmates  who  now  are  gathered  there, 
With  whom,  though  prairie  levels  intervene, 
My  spirit  dwells  this  glad  Reunion-time. 

ARKANSAS  CITY,   KANSAS,   August   i,    1904. 


VI 


PREFACE 

THE  matter  between  these  covers  has 
been  put  in  type  for  the  following  reasons  : 

First,  because  a  large  number  of  those 
present  on  Old  Home  Day  could  not  bear 
the  speakers  and  were  promised  at  the  time 
that  they  should  have  an  opportunity  later  of 
seeing  in  print  as  much  of  the  proceedings  as 
could  easily  be  reproduced. 

About  four  hundred  persons  responded 
to  the  invitation,  and  the  old  town  house 
would  hold  but  a  small  portion  of  the 
number  present.  After  assembling  in,  and 
at  the  door  of,  this  largest  audience  room 
in  town,  it  was  agreed  that  we  should  ad- 
journ to  the  new  Camp  Meeting  Grounds 
at  the  left  of  the  road  leading  west  from 
vii 


preface 

Edgar  Wills'  house  (formerly  the  residence 
of  Daniel  Heath).  The  seats  and  the 
speakers'  booth  in  these  grounds  were 
used  for  the  first  time  at  our  Reunion  and 
answered  the  purpose  admirably.  And  yet 
there  were  so  many  present  and  there  was 
so  much  pardonable  talking  in  the  space 
back  of  the  seats,  where  old  friends  were 
cordially  greeting  old  friends  whom  they 
had  not  seen  for  many  years,  that  neither 
they  nor  those  in  the  rear  seats  heard 
all  that  the  speakers  were  saying.  There 
being  no  reporter  present,  each  one  who 
spoke  was  asked  to  reproduce  in  script,  as 
well  as  he  could,  the  remarks  he  had  made, 
and  this  book  is  the  result. 

Second^  many  who,  because  of  distance, 
age,  infirmity,  or  the  cares  of  life,  could  not 
be  present,  lamented  the  fact  and  expressed 
the  hope  that  they  might  have  a  full  account 
of  the  Reunion. 

This  book  will  take  our  greetings  to 
viii 


preface 

them,  express  our  regret  that  they  could 
not  be  with  us,  and  voice  the  hope  that  we 
may  meet  them  at  the  next  Reunion  — 
five  years  hence,  if  not  earlier  ! 

Third,  the  wish  was  expressed  by  those 
who  heard  the  proceedings  that  the  histories 
of  the  town  might  be  put  in  permanent  form , 
as  being  of  much  interest  to  Salemites  whether 
present  at  the  Reunion  or  not. 

There  was,  as  far  as  known,  but  one 
copy  of  Albert  Pease's  history  of  the  town, 
which  appeared  in  the  Farmington  Chron- 
icle of  April  24th,  1862.  This  one  copy 
belongs  to  his  son,  Charles  H.  Pease, 
of  Holliston,  Massachusetts,  and  was 
kindly  loaned  by  him,  the  more  cheerfully 
since  he  was  unable  to  be  at  the  Reunion, 
as  he  had  hoped  to  be.  The  history  writ- 
ten by  Mr.  Pease  and  incorporated  in  this 
volume,  and  the  brief  history  prepared  for 
our  Old  Home  Day  by  Walter  S.  Heath, 
should  form  the  basis  of  a  more  complete 
ix  ' 


history,  including  more  events  and  per- 
sons, which  we  hope  may  some  time  ap- 
pear. If  any  and  every  one  reading  these 
pages  will  kindly  forward  any  additional 
information  concerning  the  town's  people 
or  events  to  Walter  S.  Heath,  Salem, 
Maine,  he  will  carefully  preserve  the  same 
in  the  town  archives.  In  this  way  a  much 
more  extensive  history  may,  in  fulness  of 
time,  be  prepared.  Our  great-grandfathers, 
our  grandfathers,  and  our  fathers,  many 
of  them,  have  passed  away ;  but  have  we 
not  in  store  or  memory  some  papers  or 
anecdotes  of  theirs  that  should  be  saved 
from  oblivion  ?  And  now,  before  our 
crowns  grow  much  whiter  or  many  more 
wrinkles  appear  in  our  faces,  let  us  one 
and  all  send  to  him  the  more  important 
of  our  own  reminiscences. 

Fourth,  because  by  printing  we  can  pre- 
serve and  circulate  extracts  from  letters  and 
other  communications  which  the  length  of 


preface 

the  printed  -program  did  not  allow  time  for 
reading. 

Fifth)  because  it  is  hoped  that  by  the  sale 
of  the  book  at  one  dollar  a  copy  enough  money 
may  be  collected  to  add  a  little  sum  to  our 
library  fund^  after  paying  for  the  actual  cost 
of  the  book. 

GEORGE  W.  MILLS, 
NELSON  P.  HARRIS, 
WALTER  S.  LOVEJOY, 
EDGAR  WILLS, 
WALTER  S.  HEATH, 

Old  Home  Day  Committee. 
SALEM,  MAINE,  1905. 


XI 


PROGRAMME    AND 
TABLE   OF   CONTENTS 

PAGE 

Dedicatory  Poem  to  Old  Salem,  by  Edna 
Worthley  Underwood,  great-grand- 
daughter of  Albert  Hayford  .  .  v 

Preface vii-xi 

Contents xiii 

List  of  Illustrations xvii 

SUNDAY  OF  OLD  HOME  WEEK 

Sermon  at  Town  Hall,  by  Rev.  Abel  W. 

Pottle  of  Lisbon  Falls    ....        i 

WEDNESDAY,  OLD  HOME  DAY 

1.  Ringing  of  the  Bells 

2.  Meeting  at  the  Town  House  at  9.30. 

Guests  from  the  train  and  others 
received  by  the  local  committee  and 
the  Chairman,  D.  C.  Heath  .  .  7 

3.  Invocation  by  the  Rev.  Mr.  Pottle. 

4.  Singing    "  Home,  Sweet    Home,"  by 

all  present 8 

xiii 


Cable  of  Contents 


5.  Address  of  Welcome   by    Walter  S. 

Heath 10 

6.  Respnose  to  Address  of  Welcome  by 

D.  C.  Heath 13 

7.  Annals  of  the  Town  of  Salem,  Me., 

by  Albert  Pease 27 

8.  A  Brief  History  of  the  Town   from 

1815  by  Walter  S.  Heath    ...      51 

9.  Singing  "  Old  Oaken  Bucket,"  by  all 

present 66 

10.  Poem  by  Charles  H.  Bangs,  of  Everett, 

Mass 68 

11.  Music.    Fife,  Sumner  Lovejoy  ;  drum, 

G.  A.  Page,  Kingfield     ....      79 

1 2.  Some  Memories  of  the  eastern  part  of 

the  town  by  Hon.  George  Pottle,  of 
Lewiston,  Me.,  and  Rev.  Abel  Pottle  80 

13.  Some  Memories  of  the  western  part 

of  the  town  by  Elbridge  G.  Heath 
of  Auburn,  Me.,  and  George  W. 
Harris  of  Salem,  Me 100 

14.  Mrs.  Underwood's  Reminiscences      .   109 

15.  A  Dream,  by   Rev.  Albert    Hay  ford 

Heath,  D.  D 123 

xiv 


Cable  of  Contents 


1 6.  Salem's  Old   Home  Day,  a  poem  by 

Mrs.   George   Underwood   (Carrie 
Frances  Nash),  of  Fay ette,  Me.    .    127 

17.  George  Underwood's  Address  .     .     .    146 

1 8.  Presentation   of   Cake   to   the    oldest 

person   present  who  was   born  in 
Salem 150 

19.  Our  Schools   and   Schoolmasters,   by 

one    of   the    schoolmasters,    Hon. 
Joel  Wilbur  of  Phillips,  Me.    .     .152 

20.  Singing  "Auld    Lang   Syne,"    by   all 

present 157 

21.  Benediction  by  Rev.  H.  S.  Trueman  .    157 

The  Aftermath 158 

The   First  Book   given   to   the   New 

Library 158 

More  Reminiscences  of  the  Western 
Part  of  the  Town,  by  Charles  H. 

Bangs,  Everett,  Mass 160 

The  First  White  Child  Born  in  Salem   164 
Letters   of   Congratulation    and    Ap- 
proval           165—169 


xv 


Cable  of  Contents 


Extract  from   the  Farmington   Chronicle, 

August  24th,  1904 170 

Old  Home  Day  Mail  Bag     .      .      .      176-221 

Containing  letters  from  Miss  Gay,  Mrs. 
E.  M.  Gay,  John  Turner,  F.  G.  Mills, 
Miss  Julia  H.  May,  F.  S.  Smith,  Charles 
H.  Bangs,  Mrs.  Parmelia  E.  French, 
Dr.  A.  W.  Stinchfield,  James  C.  Keene, 
Mrs.  Robert  Armour,  Mrs.  H.  G. 
Turner,  Mrs.  America  Walton,  Mary 
Emma  Ellsworth,  Benjamin  F.  Day, 
Mrs.  Frank  Wyman,  Mrs.  F.  C.  Butler, 
Mrs.  J.  S.  Milliken,  R.  J.  Mayo,  C.  L. 
Pottle,  Albert  E.  Jones,  Clinton  J.  Rich- 
ards, J.  N.  Davis,  George  Clinton 
Heath,  Warren  S.  Voter,  Dr.  Oliver  W. 
Turner,  E.  K.  Humphrey,  D.  P.  Blake, 
A.  C.  Otis,  D.  D.  Graffam,  E.  R. 
Heath,  James  C.  Pottle,  Rev.  Ernest 
K.  Caswell,  Mrs.  Julia  Tarbox,  Mrs. 
Deborah  Howard. 

Reminiscences,  by  Mr.  M.  W.  Love- 
joy    197 

A  Reminiscence,  related  by  Mrs.  Otis 
of  Readfield,  formerly  Miss  Lu- 

cinda  Blake 217 

Old  Home  Day  Register  (incomplete)  222-227 

xvi 


LIST  OF  ILLUSTRATIONS 

PAGE 

Salem,  the  Habitation  of  Peace  (Frontispiece) 

Rev.  A.  W.  Pottle i 

Walter  S.  Heath 10 

D.  Collamore  Heath 13 

Charles  M.  Heath 25 

Albert  Pease 27 

Old  Red  School  House 65 

Charles  H.  Bangs 68 

Hon.  George  Pottle 81 

Elbridge  G.  Heath IOI 

George  W.  Harris 105 

Mrs.  C.  F.  Underwood 109 

Mrs.  Elizabeth  Harris 150 

Hon.  Joel  Wilbur 152 


HOW  THE  PROGRAMME 
WAS  CARRIED  OUT 

SUNDAY.  -  -  A  SERMON  AT  THE  TOWN 
HOUSE  BY  REV.  ABEL  W.  POTTLE  OF 
LISBON  FALLS 

Prov.  14 :  34.     "Righteousness  exalteth  a  nation. 
But  sin  is  a  reproach  to  any  people." 

THERE  is  in  every  well-disposed  mind 
an  instinctive  desire  for  prosperity,  for 
progress,  for  exaltation ;  and 
at  the  same  time  a  dread  of 
failure,  of  adversity,  of  re- 
proach. These  two  impulses 
are  among  the  master  motives 
of  life.  Our  text  teaches  us 
how  we  secure  the  one  and 
avoid  the  other. 

Some  cherish  mistaken  ideas 
as  to  the  true  ground  and 
occasion  of  exaltation.  They 
too  often  associate  this  desired 
end  with  great  wealth,  official  position,  or 


REV.   A.    W.    POTTLE 


remarkable  gifts.  They  think  that  our  na- 
tional greatness  and  exaltation  is  because 
of  our  vast  territory,  our  inexhaustible  re- 
sources, our  extended  seacoast,  our  navi- 
gable rivers,  our  inland  seas,  our  extensive 
forests,  and  our  broad  and  fruitful  prairies. 
We  point  with  pride  to  our  broad  do- 
main, to  the  wonderful  development  of 
our  resources  and  our  vast  wealth  accumu- 
lations. And  certainly  in  these  respects 
we  are  a  favored  land.  But  these  material 
considerations  alone  do  not  constitute  the 
ground  and  occasion  of  our  national  great- 
ness, only  as  they  are  associated  with  right- 
eousness, with  justice,  and  with  truth. 
What  is  the  testimony  of  history  ?  Rome 
was  never  greater  nor  stronger  in  all  ma- 
terial resources  and  opportunities  and  pos- 
sibilities than  when  she  commenced  to 
decline.  The  glory  and  strength  of  Israel 
faded  and  failed  when  she  was  at  the  very 
acme  of  her  earthly  advantage  and  ripeness, 


abel  W.  ^ottle'g 


because  she  "  departed  from  following  the 
Lord  with  a  perfect  heart." 

Righteousness  is  in  and  of  itself  an  ele- 
ment of  power  and  exaltation.  It  is  an  in- 
spiration to  courage.  It  imparts  strength. 
It  quickens  and  nerves  the  mind  and  the 
hand  for  heroic  action.  It  conserves,  it 
guides  and  protects  the  true  aims  and  in- 
terests of  the  individual  and  of  the  nation. 
Righteousness  enhances  the  value  of  all 
legitimate  pursuits  and  possessions. 

But  we  pass  to  notice  the  second  pro- 
position of  our  text  :  "  Sin  is  a  reproach 
to  any  people."  Sin  is  our  willing  wrong 
doing  or  wrong  being.  It  has  reference  to 
conduct  and  character.  Seldom  does  one 
become  so  .blinded  and  insensible  as  to 
deny  the  truth  of  this  simple  proposition. 
We  need  only  to  illustrate  it,  and  so  enforce 
it  upon  your  attention. 

Notice  our  political  campaigns.  Good 
men,  or  those  claimed  to  be  good  men,  are 
3 


ffieix  abel  &.  ^ottlc'g 


nominated  for  office.  The  excellences  of 
the  candidate  are  exploited  as  a  reason  why 
he  should  receive  the  votes  of  the  people. 
It  is  the  work  of  the  opposition  to  show 
his  vices  and  defects  as  a  reason  why  the 
people  should  not  endorse  his  nomination. 
All  this  is  on  the  ground  that  righteous- 
ness exalts,  while  sin  is  a  reproach.  Take 
another  illustration.  It  is  a  sad  fact  that 
sordidness  and  selfishness  and  dishonesty 
and  avarice  are  too  common  in  the  land. 
But  who  ever  points  to  this  state  of  things 
as  the  glory  of  our  people  ?  They  are 
looked  upon  rather  as  a  reproach,  because 
these  prevalent  evils  are  sins. 

A  few  years  ago  the  institution  of  Afri- 
can slavery  rested  upon  our  fair  land. 
Slavery  became  a  power  in  the  nation. 
Millions  of  men  were  interested  in  it.  Mil- 
lions of  dollars  were  invested  in  it.  It  was 
legalized,  and  good  men  advocated  it.  It 
came  to  be  a  controlling  factor  in  our  social, 
4 


x  abei  W<  pottle's 


political,  and  financial  life.  Yet  who  to-day, 
or  even  then,  pointed  to  slavery  as  the 
glory  of  our  nation  ?  It  was  the  nation's 
reproach  because  it  was  sin. 

In  our  own  day  the  vice  and  crime  of 
intemperance  prevails  to  an  alarming  ex- 
tent. Intoxicating  liquors  are  manufac- 
tured, sold  and  consumed.  Millions  of 
money  are  invested  in  the  rum  business, 
and  vast  numbers  of  men  are  employed  in 
it.  This  evil  has  come  to  have  great  in- 
fluence in  the  land.  Men  would  legalize 
it  and  make  it  respectable.  It  has  gained 
a  controlling  influence  over  the  two  domi- 
nant political  parties.  But  for  all  this,  who 
ever  points  to  the  rum  business  and  the 
drinking  habits  of  our  people  as  the  glory 
of  our  nation  ?  Is  it  not,  rather,  con- 
sidered a  reproach,  for  it  is  sin. 

Take  another  illustration.  I  refer  to  the 
prevalent  popular  desecration  of  the  Sab- 
bath Day.  Instead  of  making  it  a  Holy 
5 


day,  it  is  made  by  vast  numbers  a  holiday. 
The  cars  and  other  public  conveyances  are 
run  as  on  other  days.  The  Sunday  paper 
is  hawked  about  our  streets.  The  churches 
are  forsaken.  Pleasure  seeking  and  money 
making  characterize  the  day.  But  who 
ever  points  to  this  tendency  to  Sabbath 
desecration  as  the  glory  and  exaltation  of 
our  land  ?  Is  it  not  rather  our  reproach, 
which  threatens  the  overthrow  of  our  re- 
ligious institutions  ? 

If  this  beautiful  town  and  community, 
nestling  in  this  charming  valley,  under  the 
kind  protection  of  old  Mount  Abram, 
would  prosper  and  enjoy  exaltation,  then 
must  the  individuals  of  the  town  observe 
the  conditions  of  such  prosperity.  Let 
righteousness,  virtue,  justice  and  truth  pre- 
vail, accompanied  by  industry,  skill  and 
frugality.  Then  these  fields  will  yield  their 
increase,  and  all  will  be  well. 


OLD    HOME  DAY 


WEDNESDAY,  AUGUST    17,   1904 

1.  Reception  by  the  Committee  at  the  Old 

Town  House. 

2.  Assembly     at     the     Camp     Meeting 

Grounds  called  to  order  by  D.  C. 
Heath  of  Boston,  Chairman,  who 
said :  — 

As  a  boy  in  Salem,  and  a  boy  of  a  good 
deal  of  spirit  too,  I  was  often  called  to  or- 
der by  the  town  authorities.  And  I  suppose 
that  I  as  often  thought  I  would  sometime 
get  even  with  them  by  calling  the  town  to 
order.  That  time  has  come.  This  is  my 
first  opportunity  to  say,  and  more  gently 
than  the  town  used  to  say  it  to  me  :  Please 
come  to  order! 

After  the  Rev.  Mr.  Pottle  invokes  the 
7 


Divine  Blessing,  we  will  all  sing,  I  am  sure 
with  spirit  and  understanding,  "Home,  Sweet 
Home"  and  then  wait  a  moment  to  see  if 
we  are  going  to  be  "  invited  in."  Walter 
S.  Heath  acts  as  spokesman  for  our  hosts. 

3.  The  Invocation. 

4.  Singing — Home,  Sweet  Home. 

'Mid  pleasures  and  palaces  though  we  may  roam, 
Be  it  ever  so  humble,  there  's  no  place  like  home; 
A  charm  from  the  skies  seems  to  hallow  us  there, 
Which,  seek  thro'  the  world,  is  ne'er  met  with  else- 
where. 

Refrain. 

Home,  home,  sweet,  sweet  home, 
There  's  no  place  like  home, 
Oh,  there  's  no  place  like  home. 

I  gaze  on  the  moon  as  I  tread  the  drear  wild, 
And  feel  that  my  mother  now  thinks  of  her  child, 
As  she  looks  on  that  moon  from  our  own  cottage  door, 

Thro'  the  woodbine  whose  fragrance  shall  cheer  me  no 
more. 

8 


Refrain. 

Home,  home,  sweet,  sweet  home, 
There  's  no  place  like  home, 
Oh,  there  's  no  place  like  home. 

An  exile  from  home,  splendor  dazzles  in  vain; 
Oh,  give  me  my  lowly  thatched  cottage  again; 
The  birds  singing  gayly,  that  came  at  my  call; 
Give  me  them,  and  that  peace  of  mind,  dearer  than  all. 

Refrain. 

Home,  home,  sweet,  sweet  home, 
There's  no  place  like  home, 
Oh,  there  's  no  place  like  home. 


ADDRESS   OF   WELCOME 


BY  WALTER  S.   HEATH   OF  SALEM 

As  one  of  the  oldest  residents  of  Salem 
I  have  been  chosen  to  extend  in  behalf 
of  our  people  not  merely  a  formal  but 
a  sincere  welcome  to  all  its 
returning  sons  and  daughters 
who  honor  us  with  their  pre- 
sence here  during  this  "  Old 
Home  Day." 

Salem  is  justly  proud  of  the 
ability  and  character  of  its  rep- 
resentatives scattered  through- 
out the  land,  from  the  east  to 
the  west.  We  are  proud  of 
those  who  have  volunteered  to 
assist  us  in  this  undertaking, 
and  especially  proud,  Mr.  Chairman,  of 
the  originator  of  this  Old  Home  Week 
and  Dav  in  Maine. 


WALTER  S.    HEATH 


IO 


05?  Walter  $>, 


He  has  sent  greetings  to  many  and  we 
are  greatly  delighted  to  see  so  many  pre- 
sent to  share  in  this,  our  first  attempt  at  a 
gathering  of  this  kind.  We  are  reminded, 
however,  that  those  who  participate  here 
to-day  are  but  a  handful  compared  with 
the  real  number  we  have  invited.  I  trust 
you  feel  that  you  are  welcome  guests. 
We  can  but  rejoice  that  you  have  so  nobly 
honored  the  town  of  your  nativity. 

Ninety  years  have  elapsed  since  the 
pioneer's  axe  was  first  heard  in  this,  the 
most  beautiful  valley  of  Franklin  County. 
How  much  these  years  contain  !  A  full 
history  would  sadden,  gratify,  and  amuse. 
Many  of  the  noble  sons  and  daughters 
who  have  honored  Salem's  name  have 
passed  beyond  to  that  higher  and  better 
life  toward  which  we  are  all  hastening. 
The  tombstones  in  our  cemetery  do  not 
represent  them  all,  for  many  are  laid  away 
beneath  other  soil ;  yet  their  memory  still 
ii 


of  Welcome 


lingers,  and  will  be  kept  green  as  long  as 
this  generation  abideth. 

Our  messenger  has  been  sent  to  the 
miner  and  the  cowboy  of  the  West ;  to 
the  cabin  of  the  sailor,  and  the  tent  of 
the  soldier  in  the  East;  as  well  as  to  the 
lawyer,  the  doctor,  the  publisher,  and  the 
minister  ;  and  a  response  has  been  received 
from  many  who  are  not  able  to  be  present. 

This  call  has  awakened  in  us  all  a  desire 
to  meet  again :  which  we  surely  shall  do, 
either  here  or  hereafter. 

In  behalf  of  the  citizens  of  Salem,  I 
would  ask  all  to  register  now  and  to  meet 
with  us  again  in  future  years. 

Who  that  in  distant  lands  has  chanced  to  roam, 
Ne'er  thrills  with  pleasure  at  the  name  of  home  ? 

CHAIRMAN  : 

We  are  evidently  not  only  "invited 
in,"  but  almost  pulled  in  and  invited  to 
"  have  a  doughnut,  and  some  coffee." 

12 


RESPONSE 

BY  D.  C.  HEATH   OF  BOSTON 

I  SUSPECT  that  I  have  been  chosen  to  re- 
ply to  this  cordial  welcome  we  have  just 
received  because  I  have  been  chiefly  re- 
sponsible for  asking  you  if  we 
might  come  to  see  you  this 
year,  and  because  I  have  been 
so  active,  not  to  say  officious, 
in  extending  an  invitation  to 
others  to  come  to  see  you  and 
to  see  each  other. 

We  thank  you,  Walter  (as 
all  the  boys  and  girls  who  go 
to  the  post  office  call  you), 
and  we  thank  also  the  good 
people  of  our  dear  old  native 
town  for  the  cordial  welcome  you  and 
they  have  given  us.  You  have  already 
made  us  so  much  at  home  that  we  feel 


D.   C.    HEATH 


as  if  we  had  never  been  away.  You  don't 
reproach  us  with  having  been  prodigal 
sons,  although  the  fatted  calves  which 
you  have  killed  would  suggest  that.  In- 
stead, you  have  given  us  the  kind  of 
welcome  the  old  Maine  farmer  gave  his 
son  who,  when  a  boy,  had,  among  other 
chores,  to  bring  in  the  wood  at  night.  One 
night,  after  he  had  brought  in  two  armfuls 
of  the  three  which  he  was  accustomed  to 
pile  up  in  the  corner,  he  concluded  that  he 
would  carry  into  effect  a  wish  he  had  long 
held,  and  go  to  sea.  He  ran  away  and  was 
gone  fifteen  years.  At  the  end  of  that  time 
he  thought  he  preferred  home,  after  all. 
He  went  home  and,  as  he  approached  the 
house,  peered  through  the  window,  and 
saw  his  father  sitting  by  the  open  fire  read- 
ing his  evening  paper,  as  of  old.  It  occurred 
to  the  boy,  then  grown  to  be  a  young  man, 
that  he  would  go  to  the  wood-pile,  get  that 
third  armful  of  wood  and  walk  in  as  if 


c 


nothing  had  happened.  As  he  opened  the 
door,  he  called  out :  "  Here  's  the  rest  of 
the  wood,  father  !  "  The  old  man  looked 
around,  saw  who  it  was,  and  said  forgiv- 
ingly :  "Now  you  may  go  to  bed." 

You  who  have  lived  here  all  your  lives 
do  not  realize  the  thrill  of  joy  that  comes 
over  us  who  have  wandered  far  and  wide, 
and  who  to-day,  for  the  first  time  in  many 
years,  come  in  sight  of  the  old  home.  The 
new  approach  by  rail  is  interesting,  but  it 
is  n't  like  the  old  approach  over  the  Pat- 
terson Hill,  when  this  beautiful  valley  sud- 
denly rises,  radiant,  to  welcome  us,  like 
Goldsmith's  Village  of  the  Plain.  Dear  old 
Foster-mother  !  The  sight  of  no  place  on 
earth  can  ever  produce  in  us  such  peace 
and  fullness  of  joy.  It  was  rightly  named 
"  Salem,"  which,  like  Jeru-salem,  means 
"  Habitation  of  Peace."  Where  is  there 
such  another  habitation  of  peace  as  the  spot 
whereon  we  now  stand,  guarded  by  the 
15 


tfcsponsc 

"everlasting  hills,"  presided  over  by  his 
majesty,  Mount  Abram,  to  us  the  dearest 
and,  in  our  childhood,  the  highest  moun- 
tain in  our  small  world"?  And,  better  than 
all,  't  is  home  ! 

There's  a  strange   something  which  e'en   wise  men 

can't  explain 
Planted  in  man  to  bind  him  to  that  earth,  in  dearest 

ties,  from  whence  he  drew  his  birth. 

A  man  may  have  many  homes,  but  the 
"  Old  Home  "  where  be  was  born  is  ever 
the  one  to  which  his  heart  turns  more  and 
more  often,  and  with  increasing  tender- 
ness as  the  years  go  by  ;  just  as  the  man 
who  is  master  of  many  languages,  when 
he  comes  to  die,  speaks  his  last  words  in 
his  mother  tongue. 

But,  while  we  are  delighted  with  your 
generous  welcome,  we  are  not  surprised, 
for  we  remember  you  as  an  uncommonly 
hospitable  people.  I  have  been  wonder- 
ing why  you  have  always  been  so  hospi- 
16 


C 


table,  and  have  concluded  that  it  is  be- 
cause there  are  so  few  of  you  (and  you 
don't  seem  to  be  rapidly  growing  more 
numerous)  that  you  have  been  dependent 
upon  each  other  for  amusement  and,  in  the 
early  days,  before  the  mails  brought  you 
the  papers  as  often  as  they  do  now,  you 
were  dependent  upon  each  other  for  in- 
formation —  at  least,  concerning  current 
events.  You  could  not  live  without  each 
other,  and  have  therefore  lived  largely  with 
and  for  each  other.  And  I  notice  that 
you  still  call  each  other  by  your  given 
names. 

If  your  home  had  been  in  the  city,  you 
might  not  have  known  your  next-door 
neighbor  except  by  accident,  and,  if  you 
had  wanted  amusement,  you  would  have 
gone  to  the  theatre.  But  here  you  get 
together  at  the  store,  at  the  blacksmith 
shop,  or  at  the  mill,  and  you  have  to 
become  acquainted  with  one  another  — 


giving  and  getting  at  the  same  time  infor- 
mation and  pleasure. 

As  a  blacksmith's  son,  it  was  my  good 
fortune  to  hear  many  things  discussed 
that  made  a  lasting  impression  on  my 
mind  and  heart.  I  distinctly  recall  to-day 
the  discussion  by  our  neighbors  of  the 
Crimean  War,  then  being  waged  (just 
fifty  years,  or  a  half  century,  ago)  and  the 
fortunes  and  misfortunes  of  that  war.  I 
remember  how  my  father  and  his  visitors 
would  illustrate  with  pieces  of  iron  the 
positions  and  construction  of  the  forts, 
and  the  position  of  the  armies,  both  Eng- 
lish and  Russian.  In  this  connection,  I 
also  recall  a  flaming  war  poster  which 
hung  in  my  Uncle  Porter's  store,  a  store 
which  I  was  allowed  to  visit  a  little  more 
often  because  it  was  kept  by  my  uncle. 
If  I  mistake  not,  that  poster,  probably 
sent  out  by  some  newspaper,  represented 
the  bombardment  of  Sevastopol. 
18 


.  C 


And  you  got  together  not  only  at  the 
store  and  the  blacksmith  shop,  but  at 
barn-raisings  and  hustings  and  at  picnics. 
You  worked  together  on  the  roads.  You 
exchanged  work  in  haying  time.  (I  do 
not  forget  the  jug  hidden  under  the  hay 
-to  keep  it  cool,  of  course — which 
cheered  but  did  not  inebriate,  as  it  most 
often  contained  only  sweetened  water  and 
ginger.  What  the  jugs  contained  at  the 
"  Raisings  "  I  do  not  know,  but  I  have 
heard  that  sometimes  something  besides 
the  building  was  raised  on  these  occasions.) 
Your  land  must  be  better  than  that  in 
many  places  in  Maine  where  it  is  said  to 
be  so  poor  that  you  cannot  even  raise  a 
disturbance  upon  it. 

You  also  got  together  at  Town  Meet- 
ings which;  I  have  lately  heard,  were  not 
always,  in  the  early  days,  opened  by  prayer, 
but  sometimes  with  a  cockscrew.  (The 
county  courts  used  also  to  be  opened  by 
19 


prayer.  The  prayer  which  one  old  clergy- 
man offered  at  one  session  was  somewhat 
as  follows  :  "  Oh,  Lord,  wilt  thou  give 
the  presiding  judge  the  wisdom  he  so 
much  needs,  and  overrule  all  his  deci- 
sions.") 

We  used  to  go  together  to  the  cattle 
shows  and  "  musters "  and  circuses,  we 
boys  going  barefooted  all  the  way  to 
Strong  to  attend  them,  stopping  at  the 
"  Dugway  "  and  the  "  Ledge,"  to  study 
geology  or  have  a  frolic  or  a  scrap. 

And  our  mothers  got  together  at  par- 
ing-bees and  at  quiltings.  (Was  it  at  one 
of  these  that  the  old  lady  said  she  "  always 
came  before  anybody  else  and  stayed  until 
after  everybody  else  had  gone  so  she 
would  n't  be  c  backbit '  "  ?) 

And  there  were  social  parties  that 
brought  the  young  people  together  (You 
could  not  have  a  considerable  party  with- 
out inviting  everybody  in  town  !  ),  and  sing- 
20 


.  c 


ing  schools  and  spelling  matches,  which  I 
personally  used  to  enjoy  quite  as  much  as 
anything.  Do  you  remember  how  we  used 
to  be  trained  at  home  and  at  school  for 
these  spelling  matches  ?  Who  was  the  boy 
who  misspelled  gone?  He  persisted  in 
spelling  it  "g-o-r-n."  To  punish  and 
correct  him,  the  teacher  made  him  stay 
after  school  and  write  g-o-n-e  one  hun- 
dred times  on  the  blackboard.  After  writ- 
ing it  correctly  one  hundred  times,  he 
drew  a  line  under  the  columns  and  wrote; 
"  4.30  o'clock.  I  have  gorn  home."  And 
who  was  that  other  boy  who  said  he  could 
never  learn  to  spell,  because  the  teacher 
kept  changing  the  words  every  day ! 

Personally,  we  congratulate  you  that 
you  have  been  obliged  to  commune  with 
your  fellowmen  in  this  close  familiarity,  to 
study  human  nature  at  first  hand,  and  thus 
to  become  more  human  yourselves ;  and 
we  congratulate  you  even  more  that  you 
21 


have  lived  near  the  heart  of  nature  where 
you  are  inclined  to  "  look  through  nature 
up  to  nature's  God."  The  older  we  grow 
the  more  sure  we  are  of  the  truth  of  the 
line  in  our  copy-books :  "  God  made  the 
country,  and  Man  made  the  town."  Any 
man  born  in  the  country,  who  spent  his 
boyhood  on  the  farm,  must  read  with  ap- 
proval a  recent  article  by  Mr.  Bryan,  in 
which  he  describes  the  advantages  of  a  life 
next  the  soil.  The  farmer,  he  says,  is  the 
firm  foundation  on  which  all  other  classes 
rest.  "  The  farm  gives  a  good  founda- 
tion for  mental  training.  Habits  of  appre- 
ciation, of  industry,  and  of  thoroughness 
come  naturally  in  school  to  the  boy  who 
has  been  trained  to  farm  work." 

Not  only  does  the  farm  furnish  mental 
athletes  for  the  city,  but  the  average  far- 
mer possesses  more  information  of  general 
value  than  the  average  resident  of  a  city. 
If  he  has  not  always  read  the  latest  fiction, 
22 


c. 


or  the  most  sensational  criminal  news,  he 
has  generally  read  something  fully  as  use- 
ful. The  long  evenings  of  the  winter,  the 
rainy  days  of  summer,  and  the  Sabbath 
days  throughout  the  year  give  him  many 
hours  for  reading,  and  while  at  work  he 
has  more  time  for  meditation  and  for  the 
digestion  of  what  he  reads  than  those  em- 
ployed in  other  kinds  of  labor. 

He  is  not  afflicted  with  insomnia,  or 
troubled  with  nervous  prostration.  He 
has  the  "  sound  mind  in  the  sound  body  " 
which  has  been  sought  in  every  age. 

The  farmer  learns  the  true  basis  of  re- 
wards. He  learns  to  give  a  dollar's  worth 
of  work  for  a  dollar's  worth  of  product. 

The  child  raised  upon  the  farm  has  the 
advantage  of  steady  and  useful  occupation 
so  necessary  to  self-respect  and  to  the  up- 
building of  manly  and  womanly  charac- 
ter. As  childhood  advances  toward  youth 
and  maturity,  the  difficulty  is  to  find  a 
23 


wise  employment  of  the  leisure  hours  — 
to  give  the  boy  or  girl  brought  up  in  a 
limited  environment  a  broad  view  and  a 
correct  perspective  of  life.  In  no  way  can 
this  be  so  well  done  as  by  an  acquaintance 
with  good  books,  entertaining  books,  even 
amusing  books,  but  always  books  written 
by  a  master  hand  in  the  service  of  a  pure 
heart  and  a  clear  vision. 

Thinking  of  this  need,  which  was  mine 
when  I  was  a  lad  here,  it  has  seemed  to  me 
that  I  could  not  better  express  my  interest 
in  you  and  my  love  for  my  dear  old  home 
than  by  placing  in  your  hands  five  hundred 
dollars  to  be  used  for  the  purchase  of  good 
books  by  reputable  authors  as  a  nucleus 
for  a  Library  of  permanent  value.  And, 
when  you  have  collected  a  Library  of  such 
size  and  merit  as  to  demand  a  special  build- 
ing for  housing  it,  it  will  be  to  me  an  added 
pleasure  to  give  to  this  little  town  of  my 
birth  a  suitable  home  for  that  Library,  to 
24 


>.  C 


be  called  "  The  Charles  M.  Heath  Memo- 
rial Library,"  in  honor  of  my  brother  who 
was  born  and  reared  here,  who  passed 
most  of  his  short  life  in  your  midst,  and 
who,  when  he  was  married  and  wished  to 
establish  a  home  of  his  own,  turned  to 
Salem  as  his  choice,  —  to  Salem,  "  the 
habitation  of  peace." 


BORN 

SALEM,    MAINE, 
JAN.    26,    1838. 

DIED 

FARMINGTON,    MAINE, 
DEC.     31,    l86l. 


CHARLES    M.     HEATH 


CHAIRMAN  : 

We  expected  to  have  with  us  to-day 
Charles  H.  Pease  of  Holliston,  Mass., 
the  son  of  Albert  Pease  who  formerly 
lived  in  the  western  part  of  the  town, 
on  the  road  to  Phillips.  Mr.  Pease  was 
to  give  us  some  reminiscences  concerning 
that  part  of  Salem.  He  found,  at  the  last 
moment,  that  he  was  unable  to  be  present, 
and  kindly  offered  to  send  us  an  account 
of  the  town  written  by  his  father  for  the 
Farmington  Chronicle  in  1862.  This  inter- 
esting History  really  comes  first  in  order 
of  time,  and  I  am  going  to  ask  Brother 
Abel  Pottle,  whose  voice  all  of  you  can 
hear,  to  read  it  at  this  time.  Mr.  Charles 
Pease,  in  sending  this  copy  of  the  Chroni- 
cle, said  concerning  his  father :  "  He  was 
a  somewhat  peculiar  man  and  old-fash- 
ioned, but  was  solicitous  for  the  best  inter- 
ests of  mankind,  and  withal  liberal  in  his 
views." 

26 


ANNALS 

OF  THE  TOWN  OF  SALEM,  MAINE, 

PREPARED  IN  1862  FOR  THE  FARMINGTON 
CHRONICLE 

BY  ALBERT  PEASE 

SALEM,  in  the  County  of  Franklin,  State 
of  Maine,  is  a  small  town,  comprising  the 
basin  or  valley  between  Mount 
Abram  and  elevated  lands  ly- 
ing in  Phillips  and  Freeman.  It 
was  taken  from  the  latter  towns 
and  the  Mount  Abram  town- 
ship. It  was  incorporated  in 
1 823, and  was  called  North  Sa- 
lem, until  1 843,  when  the  name 
was  changed  to  Salem.  The  face 
of  the  land  is  very  handsome, 
being  mostly  level,  or  gently 
rolling,  or  gently  declining 
from  the  heights  above  mentioned  ;  ex- 
cept the  westerly  part,  which  is  somewhat 
27 


ALBERT    PEASE 


annals  of 


broken  into  hills,  interspersed  with  low 
intervales,  bogs  and  natural  meadows.  The 
soil  is  a  gravelly  loam,  except  the  hill  slopes 
and  meadows.  The  original  growth  was 
beech,  birch  and  maple ;  the  second  growth, 
poplar  and  white  birch.  The  land,  on  first 
being  cleared,  gave  abundant  returns;  and 
vast  quantities  of  wheat,  oats  and  grass  seed 
have  been  carried  to  adjacent  towns  for  sale. 
And  even  under  the  plough,  the  crops, 
for  a  series  of  years,  were  very  remunera- 
tive. Nearly  the  whole  area  of  the  town 
has  been  cleared,  and  there  is  but  little 
land,  except  in  the  western  part  of  the 
town,  that  is  not  occupied  by  farms.  But 
such  is  the  nature  of  the  soil,  being  quick, 
warm,  and  offering  no  impediments  to  the 
plough,  that  much  of  the  land  has  been 
exhausted  of  its  original  fertility.  Many 
farms  in  the  western  part  of  the  town  have 
been  abandoned,  and  have  grown  up  to 
bushes  ;  in  many  places  affording  a  good 
28 


aibert 


opportunity  for  a  second  clearing.  Other 
tracts  are  more  sparsely  occupied  by 
bushes,  and  afford  grass  enough  if  any 
adequate  protection  could  be  had  against 
dogs,  to  furnish  a  good  range  for  sheep. 
There  are  large  tracts  that  could  be  bought 
for  a  mere  trifle,  where,  but  for  the  risk  of 
dogs,  sheep  would  find  a  real  paradise. 

From  the  causes  above  mentioned  the 
population  of  the  town  is  not  as  great  as 
it  has  been  at  a  previous  period.  —  In  wan- 
dering through  the  bushes,  particularly  in 
the  western  part  of  the  town,  one  comes 
suddenly  upon  the  ruins  of  habitations 
where  once  lived  a  numerous  family. 
Other  farms  with  buildings  are  tenantless, 
and  one  school  house  stands  deserted,  be- 
cause the  people  for  whom  it  was  built, 
have  departed.  This  town  affords  a  good 
opportunity  for  the  enterprising  and  indus- 
trious, to  buy  cheap  farms,  and  tracts  of 
unoccupied  land.  Many  farms  are  to  be 
29 


of 


sold  very  cheap  that  have  good  buildings. 
And  there  are  deposits  of  muck  scattered 
at  convenient  distances  all  over  the  town. 
Settlements  were  commenced  in  what 
is  now  the  town  of  Salem,  in  1815.  The 
first  chopping  was  made  by  Benjamin 
Heath,  now  living  at  the  village.  Mr. 
Heath  was  from  Farmington.  The  place 
where  he  made  his  clearing  is  where  Free- 
dom Richards  now  lives.  Before  he  moved, 
however,  two  others,  Israel  Doble  and 
Albert  Hayford,  from  Hartford  moved 
into  the  place,  and  commenced  clearing  on 
the  place  where  James  Hackett  now  lives. 
Benj.  Heath  moved  in  about  a  year  after 
Doble  and  Hayford,  and  soon  his  father, 
Benj.  Heath,  and  his  brother,  Simeon  A. 
Heath,  came  in  and  built  a  saw-mill  and 
gristmill  where  the  village  now  is.  Mr. 
Heath,  id,  relates  that  he  first  felled  about 
thirteen  acres  of  trees,  burned  his  chop- 
ping, cleared  an  acre  and  a  half,  which  he 
30 


Albert 


sowed  to  wheat  and  barley,  and  planted 
the  rest  of  his  chopping  to  corn,  among 
the  logs.  There  came  a  frost  on  the  ninth 
day  of  August  and  completely  destroyed 
his  whole  crop.  He  junked  it  the  next  fall 
and  in  the  spring  he  changed  work  with 
a  Mr.  Fathergill,  who  had  a  clearing  in 
what  is  now  Freeman,  and  Samuel  Church, 
who  was  clearing  in  Salem,  and  piled  their 
pieces  by  hand.  A  misfortune  happened, 
after  they  had  piled  the  pieces  of  his  two 
associates.  They  had  piled  only  one  day 
on  Heath's  lot,  when,  one  Sunday,  they 
thought  they  would  make  some  beer. 
They  had  a  large  kettle,  and  had  got  their 
ingredients  completely  boiled,  and  Heath 
and  Church  were  lifting  it  off  the  fire, 
when  the  bail  came  out,  and  scalded 
Church  on  the  foot  so  badly  that  the  skin 
came  off  with  his  stocking.  Here  was  a 
bad  case.  Fathergill  had  left,  and  Heath 
had  to  clear  his  piece  alone,  Church  being 
31 


of 


able  to  do  only  the  cooking.  Heath  cleared 
it,  however,  and  got  his  wheat  harrowed 
in  on  the  4th  day  of  May.  On  the  day  he 
finished,  there  came  four  inches  of  snow. 
He  had  a  good  crop,  averaging  25  bushels 
to  the  acre.  That  year  he  sold  wheat  to 
the  people  of  Farmington. 

Mr.  Heath  states  that  while  chopping 
his  trees,  being  at  work  all  alone,  he  heard, 
for  several  days,  the  sound  of  some  one 
chopping  at  a  distance.  After  a  while  he 
went  to  seek  his  neighbor.  When  he  found 
him,  the  latter  had  just  cut  his  foot  so  badly 
that  he  could  not  walk,  and  it  was  bleeding 
so  as  to  endanger  his  life.  Heath  peeled 
some  alder  bark,  pounded  it  up,  and  bound 
it  on  to  the  wound,  thereby  stopping  the 
blood.  He  helped  him  to  his  camp,  and 
help  coming  in  the  next  day,  he  was  car- 
ried out.  His  name  was  Bragdon.  He  was 
a  deserter  from  the  army  and  was  afterwards 
taken,  carried  back,  and  shot. 
32 


Mr.  Doble  lived  in  town  till  1858,  when 
he  moved  to  Strong  and  is  living  with  his 
son-in-law,  not  far  from  the  village.  While 
living  in  town,  he  cleared  the  farm  lately 
owned  by  Jonathan  Daggett.  He  is  now 
72  years  old,  and  relates  with  much  in- 
terest his  experience  and  vicissitudes  in  a 
pioneer  life.  Before  he  moved  into  Salem 
he  lived  for  about  six  weeks  in  Freeman. 
While  there  the  people  of  the  place  had 
what  they  call  a  peace  frolic.  They  burned 
a  great  deal  of  powder  and  drank  a  great 
deal  of  rum,  many  getting  drunk  who 
never  got  drunk  before.  They  tried  to  get 
the  town  to  pay  the  bills,  and  contested  in 
town  meeting  for  that  purpose,  but  with- 
out success.  Those  who  drank  the  rum 
and  burned  the  powder  had  to  pay  for  it. 
He  states  that  in  the  month  of  February, 
previous  to  his  moving  in,  the  ground 
was  bare.  In  March,  following,  however, 
there  were  four  feet  of  snow.  Previous  to 
33 


of 


moving,  he  went  in  with  others  to  make 
his  clearing,  and  cut  roads,  bringing  his 
provisions  from  Hartford.  They  went  in 
by  the  town  line  between  Phillips  and  Free- 
man. This  led  them  into  the  vicinity  of 
where  the  village  now  is,  where  they  began 
their  settlement.  While  cutting  the  road, 
toward  nightfall,  late  in  autumn,  on  a  foggy 
day,  they  started  for  their  camp.  They  got 
lost,  and  had  to  stop  for  the  night.  They 
struck  fire  with  a  flint  and  jack  knife,  catch- 
ing the  spark  with  a  piece  of  spunk  that  one 
of  them  chanced  to  have  in  his  pocket. 
There  were  four  of  them,  Doble  and  Hay- 
ford  and  Samuel  and  Daniel  Church.  Hay- 
ford  and  Daniel  Church  lay  down  and  went 
to  sleep.  The  others  lighted  a  torch  and 
continued  their  search  for  the  camp.  They 
soon  found  a  large  pine  stub,  into  which 
they  put  their  torch,  and  soon  had  a  great 
fire.  They  went  back  and  got  their  com- 
panions, and  spent  the  night  by  the  stub. 
34 


Next  morning  they  came  out  where  Moody 
Burbank  now  lives,  in  Phillips.  They  all 
lost  their  crops  the  first  season,  by  the  frost 
on  the  ninth  of  August.  Next  season  they 
had  a  great  fire  in  the  meadow,  on  the  farm 
where  Albert  Pease  now  lives,  which  swept 
over  a  great  part  of  the  country.  He  had  a 
sable  line  from  where  James  Hackett  now 
lives,  extending  westerly  to  what  is  now  the 
town  of  Madrid.  He  went  out  on  this  line 
one  cold  day  in  December,  when  night  over- 
took him.  He  got  some  spruce  bushes, 
swept  the  snow  from  a  space,  then  lopped 
spruce  together  to  make  a  shelter,  picked 
boughs  for  a  bed,  and  lay  down  and  slept 
soundly  till  morning. 

Mr.  Hayford  is  now  77  years  old.  He 
is  now  living  in  Salem  with  his  son.  He 
raised  a  large  family  of  fourteen  children, 
his  daughter  Artemina  being  the  first  white 
child  born  in  the  town.  All  of  his  children 
but  one  lived  to  grow  up,  and  eleven  of 
35 


of 


them  are  yet  living.  The  settlements  thus 
commenced  seem  to  have  grown  quite 
rapidly.  John  Church, with  his  sons,  David 
and  Samuel,  moved  in  shortly  after  the 
first  settlers.  John  Church,  the  father, 
afterwards  moved  to  Farmington  and  died 
there.  David  seems  to  have  been  a  some- 
what prominent  man.  He  was  the  first 
town  clerk,  and  the  first  that  went  as  repre- 
sentative to  the  Legislature.  He  married 
a  daughter  of  Samuel  Blake,  Esq.,  of  Phil- 
lips. He  moved  from  Salem  to  Phillips, 
and  from  thence  to  Farmington,  where  he 
died.  Samuel  died  in  Salem,  on  the  place 
where  William  Clark  now  lives;  and  was 
buried  in  Farmington.  Daniel  Church 
moved  from  Farmington  with  the  first 
settlers.  He  lived  where  G.  W.  Williams 
now  lives;  afterwards  moved  back  to  Farm- 
ington and  died  there.  Isaac  Clark  was  one 
of  the  first  settlers  of  Salem.  He  lived  on 
the  place  where  his  son,  Harrison,  nowlives. 
36 


albert 


Though  close  and  prudent  in  conducting 
his  business  affairs  generally,  he  was  public 
spirited  and  generous  to  the  town.  He  was 
much  in  business  for  the  town,  and  usually 
charged  but  75  cents  per  day  for  his  ser- 
vices. In  looking  over  the  town  records, 
I  find  an  instance  of  his  being  paid  two 
dollars  for  the  privilege  of  a  road  passing 
across  his  land,  a  privilege  that  most  people 
would  have  charged  25  dollars  for.  He 
moved  to  Hallowell,  and  died  there,  aged 
72. 

Ephraim  Nickerson  moved  into  Salem 
about  five  years  after  the  first  settlers.  He 
lived  on  the  farm  where  Jeremiah  D. 
Ellsworth  now  lives.  He  carried  on  a  large 
business  in  the  line  of  clearing  land,  etc., 
and  was  often  chosen  to  do  business  for 
the  town.  He  exchanged  farms  with  Wil- 
liam Ellsworth  of  Strong,  and  after  living 
there  awhile,  moved  to  the  West. 

Paul  Robinson,  about  the  same  time 
37 


of 


moved  into  the  town,  and  lived  on  the 
farm  now  occupied  by  Elias  Winslow.  He 
raised  a  large  family,  and  did  a  great  deal 
of  business  in  raising  grain  and  grass  seed. 
He  built  a  clover  mill  on  the  stream  near 
his  house,  and  afterwards  at  the  village. 
He  moved  to  Wilton,  and  afterwards  to 
the  Western 'States. 

Robert  Blake,  a  hard-working,  thriving 
man,  moved  into  the  town  in  1819  from 
Mt.  Vernon.  He  is  living  now  at  the  vil- 
lage; his  son,  Rufus  K.,  living  on  the  farm 
where  his  father  lived. 

John  Tarr,  an  early  settler,  lived  on 
the  place  where  Wm.  Seavy  now  lives  ;  he 
died  in  Salem. 

William  Carl,  an  early  settler,  lived 
where  Eli  Brackley  now  lives  and  died  in 
Salem. 

Daniel  Graffam  was  an  early  settler  ;  his 
son  Daniel  D.  is  now  living  on  his  father's 
farm.    Mr.  Graffam  died  in  Salem. 
38 


Eben  Briggs  moved  in  about  1825.  He 
died  in  Salem  in  1856. 

Stephen  Whitney  moved  into  the  place 
in  1826,  died  in  1859. 

Joseph  Lovejoy  moved  in  in  1826.  He 
dropped  dead  in  the  streets  of  Phillips  vil- 
lage in  1860. 

James  Taylor,  an  early  settler,  lived  in 
the  northwestern  part  of  Salem,  where 
John  C.  Heath  now  lives.  He  went  to 
Bangor  with  a  pair  of  oxen  for  sale,  sold 
his  oxen,  put  up  at  the  tavern,  and  was 
heard  from  no  more. 

Moses  Patterson  was  among  the  first  set- 
tlers. He  cleared -a  farm  in  the  northeast- 
erly part  of  the  town,  afterwards  purchased 
the  mills,  and  moved  to  the  village,  where 
he  now  lives. 

Jacob  Sweat  lived  where  Joseph  Bangs 
now  lives.  He  was  representative  to  the 
legislature. 

Nathaniel  Richards  and  John  Richards, 
39 


of 


brothers,  and  David  Richards,  their  cousin, 
moved  from  Leeds  at  an  early  period. 
These  died  in  Salem,  and  have  numerous 
descendants  living  in  the  town. 

Amos  Barker,  an  early  settler,  lived 
where  James  T.  Fulsom  now  lives.  He 
was  killed  by  a  sled  loaded  with  hay  passing 
over  him. 

George  Carl,  an  early  settler,  lived  up 
on  the  side  of  Mt.  Abram,  was  sent  to  the 
legislature  as  representative.  Report  says 
it  spoiled  him.  He  moved  away.  Other 
individuals  are  spoken  of  as  having  lived 
in  town  at  an  early  period,  and  as  having 
moved  away. 

Daniel  Towers,  one  of  the  first  settlers, 
sold  to  Daniel  Clark  and  moved  to  the 
Western  States. 

David  Harlow  lived  at  the  foot  of  Mt. 
Abram;  moved  to  Strong  where  he  nowlives. 

Eben   Collier,  lived  afterwards  in  Jay, 
moved  finally  to  the  West. 
40 


Joshua  Soule,  I  think,  moved  to  the 
West.  Others  are  mentioned  by  the  in- 
habitants as  early  settlers,  or  whose  names 
are  found  in  the  early  records  of  the  town 
of  whom  there  is  no  special  account.  Among 
these  are  Levi  Stevens,  Peter  Gay,  Oliver 
Turner,  O.  Turner,  Jr.,  John  H.  Patter- 
son, Samuel  Brown,  Dennis  Brown,  Daniel 
Clough,  Robert  Nevins,  and  Daniel  Col- 
lins, Jr. 

Many  are  the  perils  and  trials  incident 
to  a  pioneer  life.  But  attendant  on  these, 
there  are  advantages  not  enjoyed  by  older 
settlements.  Benjamin  Heath  relates  that 
during  the  first  spring  he  spent  in  the  town, 
he  made  two  barrels  of  maple  molasses.  He 
also  states  that  he  had  a  payment  of  $75  to 
make  for  his  land.  He  had  no  means  of 
procuring  the  money  except  hunting.  He 
collected  a  lot  of  furs,  carried  them  to  Nor- 
ridgewock,  and  sold  them  to  John  Ware. 
He  got  his  $75  and  had  four  skins  left. 


annals  of 


One  of  those  accidents  so  imminent  and 
common  in  new  settlements  is  related  by 
Mr.  Heath.  His  sister  went,  just  at  night, 
after  the  cows  and  got  lost  in  the  woods. 
She  had  wandered  away  into  the  low 
grounds,  east  of  where  Wm.  Witham, 
Esq.,  now  lives.  After  much  difficulty  he 
found  her.  But  in  his  anxiety  he  had  lost 
the  bearings  and  had  become  lost  himself. 
He  hallooed,  and  not  being  very  far  off, 
was  heard  and  answered  at  the  settlement 
at  the  mills.  But  he  was  also  heard  in  an- 
other direction.  In  this  dilemma,  he  called 
out  with  all  his  might,  "  Strike  with  the 
mill-bar  !  "  The  people  caught  the  sound 
of  "  mill-bar,"  and  the  sound  of  iron 
striking  on  iron  soon  led  him  out. 

When  a  few  families  had  settled  around 
the  mills,  they  built  a  log  school  house, 
hired  a  mistress  and  put  a  school  in  opera- 
tion in  the  winter.  A  large  boy  by  the  name 
of  David  Cressy  lived  with  Simeon  A. 
42 


Heath,  and  went  to  school.  Being  imbued 
with  the  notion,  so  current  among  a  cer- 
tain class  of  politicians  in  these  days,  that 
"  might  makes  right,"  he  used  to  amuse 
himself  during  the  intermissions  by  plun- 
ging the  scholars  into  the  snow  and  abusing 
them  generally.  The  mistress  did  not  dare 
to  meddle  with  him,  the  neighbors  were 
loth  to  interfere,  and  they  were  in  much 
trouble.  At  length,  Albert  Hay  ford  hav- 
ing come  down  to  mill,  heard  an  outcry 
among  the  scholars.  He  went  out  to  meet 
them  as  they  were  running  in  mortal  fear 
from  Cressy,  some  of  them  bleeding  from 
wounds  received  from  him.  Mr.  Hayford 
had  a  whip  stock  made  of  ash-wood,  split 
into  strands  and  braided,  and  covered  with 
leather.  He  kept  his  weapon  behind  him 
till  getting  near  enough,  he  caught  Cressy 
by  the  collar  and  gave  him  a  sound  thrash- 
ing with  it.  No  more  trouble  was  had  from 
him  in  the  school.  After  a  number  of  years 
43 


of 


Hayford  met  him  at  Readfield  Corner. 
In  the  meantime,  Cressy,  it  seems,  had  not 
only  grown  older  but  wiser.  He  greeted 
Hayford  cordially,  acknowledged  the  "lick- 
ing "  to  be  the  best  he  had  ever  received, 
and  that  it  did  him  good,  invited  him  to 
drink,  according  to  the  custom  of  the  times, 
and  treated  him  to  the  best. 

As  is  quite  unusual  in  such  cases,  the 
incorporation  of  the  town  was  much  op- 
posed. Col.  Jewett  of  Norridgewock, 
agent  for  the  Mt.  Abram  Township  ; 
Mr.  Abbott,  agent  of  Mr.  Phillips  of 
Boston,  proprietor  of  the  town  of  Phillips, 
and  the  town  of  Phillips  itself,  united  to 
oppose  it.  By  a  little  adroit  management, 
however,  on  the  part  of  the  petitioners 
and  their  friends,  the  thing  was  pushed 
along  in  the  legislature,  and  when  Elder 
Dyer,  whom  the  town  of  Phillips  had  sent 
to  oppose  the  incorporation  of  the  town, 
was  going  down  to  Augusta,  he  met  David 
44 


Albert 


Church  with  the  act  of  incorporation  in 
his  hand. 

At  the  time  of  the  incorporation  of  the 
towns,  Jan.  1823,  Albion  K.  Parris  was 
Governor,  Daniel  Rose  President  of  the 
Senate,  and  Benjamin  Ames  Speaker  of 
the  House.  The  first  meeting  of  the  town 
was  called  by  Samuel  Blake,  Esq.  of  Phil- 
lips. Met  at  Simeon  A.  Heath's  in  April, 
1823.  Joshua  Soulewas  chosen  moderator, 
David  Church,  clerk ;  Ebenezer  Collier, 
Ephraim  Nickerson  and  David  Church, 
Selectmen ;  James  Taylor  and  Peter  Gay, 
Tithingmen.  They  raised  $20  to  defray 
town  charges,  $400  to  support  schools. 
Economy  seems  to  have  been  a  ruling 
principle  with  the  early  townsmen.  So 
late  as  1829  the  town  voted  the  school 
money  paid  in  corn  and  grain.  Corn  and 
rye  75  cents  per  bushel,  wheat  $1.00. 

As  previously  mentioned,  Benjamin 
Heath,  ist,  with  his  son  Simeon  A.,  moved 
45 


annals  of 


into  the  place  from  Farmington  and  built 
a  saw  mill  and  grist  mill,  soon  after  the 
first  families  moved  in.  Rufus  Davis,  now 
of  Hallowell,  was  master  workman  on  the 
saw  mill,  and  Hattel  Braley,  of  Phillips, 
on  the  grist  mill.  After  eight  or  ten  years 
a  freshet  carried  the  mills  away.  They 
were  rebuilt  and  sold  to  a  number  of  men 
living  in  Salem.  These  last  sold  to  John 
Smith,  Esq.  of  Readfield ;  who  built  anew. 
Solomon  Luce  of  New  Vineyard  was 
master  workman.  During  the  building 
the  hands  boarded  with  Benj.  Heath,  id. 
Mrs.  Heath  had  twenty  in  the  family, 
and  did  all  the  work,  and  her  husband 
sick  with  rheumatism  a  part  of  the  time. 
She  died  at  the  age  of  62.  After  this  the 
mills  passed  through  a  number  of  hands, 
until  they  were  sold  to  Moses  Patterson 
&  Co.,  the  present  owners.  Patterson  & 
Co.  built  a  starch  factory  in  which  they 
did  considerable  business  for  a  time.  This 
46 


is  now  idle.  From  the  small  size  of  the 
place,  and  its  isolated  position,  mercantile 
pursuits  have  been  limited  in  extent,  and 
fluctuating  in  duration.  Among  the  many 
who  have  traded  in  the  place  some  have 
done  a  good  business,  but  the  most  have 
done  but  a  small  business.  Among  those 
that  have  traded  in  the  town  since  its  first 
settlement,  the  following  are  the  principal : 
William  Heath,  Greenleaf  Davis,  Benj. 
Eastman,  Wm.  Dicky,  Wallender&  Ridge- 
way,  Capt.  John  Heath,  Hiram  Wright 
who  had  his  store  and  goods  burned  where 
Esq.  Patterson's  house  now  stands ;  then 
John  F.  Russ,  Heath  &  Porter,  Blake 
&  Porter,  Porter,  Charles  Heath,  David 
Eades,  Prescott  Newman,  Robert  Blake, 
Dudley  Briggs,  and  now,  James  Dodge, 
Jr.,  scarcely  ever  two  at  a  time,  but  one 
succeeding  another. 

Blacksmithing  has  been   carried  on  by 
Benj.  Heath,  Daniel  Heath  now  of  Farm- 
47 


of 


ington,  James  Dodge,  Wm.  Lovejoy,  and 
now  James  Collins.  Other  branches  of  man- 
ufacturing have  been  carried  on  to  but  lim- 
ited extent,  if  at  all. 

There  has  never  been  a  meeting  house  in 
town,  but  meetings  have  been  held  in  dwell- 
ing houses  and  school  houses,  and  lately  in 
the  town  house.  There  is  now  a  small 
society  of  Methodists,  one  of  Free-will 
Baptists,  and  one  of  Universalists,  these 
being  the  only  organized  societies ;  who 
each  maintain  preaching  in  town ;  supported 
in  part  by  a  ministerial  fund.  An  interest- 
ing feature  of  the  town  is  the  graveyard, 
situated  at  a  corner  of  the  roads  near  the 
center  of  the  town,  where  repose  many  of 
those  who  leveled  the  forest,  and  turned 
it  into  a  fruitful  field. 

Oft  did  the  harvest  to  their  sickles  yield  ; 
Their  furrow  oft  the  stubborn  glebe  has  broke  ; 
How  jocund  did  they  drive  their  teams  afield  ; 
How  bowed  the  woods  beneath  their  sturdy  stroke. 
48 


CHAIRMAN  : 

Benjamin  Heath  was  one  of  the  pioneers 
of  Salem  and,  as  a  blacksmith,  set  up  his 
anvil  in  the  woods.  I  think  his  anvil  must 
have  been  the  one  referred  to  when  two 
strangers  met  at  the  cross-roads  in  the 
woods  and  one  asked  the  other  if  he  knew 
where  there  was  a  blacksmith  shop.  "Why, 
you  are  in  a  blacksmith's  shop  now,"  was 
the  answer,  "  but  the  anvil  is  three  miles 
away."  The  grandson  of  this  blacksmith, 
whose  shop  was  the  town  of  Salem,  has 
lived  in  Salem  all  his  life  and  has  held  many 
public  offices  here.  He  has  been  asked  to 
prepare  a  history  of  the  town  and  has 
kindly,  but  reluctantly,  consented  to  do 
the  best  he  could  with  the  meagre  material 
at  hand.  His  father  was  also  Benjamin 
Heath,  prominent  among  the  early  settlers. 
I  refer,  of  course,  to  Mr.  Walter  S.  Heath. 

Mr.  Heath,  in  writing  me  about  his 
History,  said  :  "  I  have  tried  to  make  it 
49 


€>lti 


as  brief  as  possible  and  have  really  cut  off 
the  end  lest  I  should  not  leave  quite 
enough  room  for  reminiscences  by  others. 
I  searched  the  records  of  Phillips,  Freeman, 
and  Salem  to  get  what  I  have  written  and 
it  is  all  based  upon  the  facts  thus  gathered. 
I  realize  that  it  is  a  skeleton  rather  than  a 
well  clothed  body,  or  in  other  words,  it  is 
more  of  a  Chronology  than  a  History. 
But,  such  as  it  is,  I  give  it  to  you,  hoping 
that  in  due  time  we  may  get  material 
enough  to  make  a  fairly  complete  History 
of  the  town  with  all  its  people  and  events." 


a  I3rtef  Carl? 

OF  THE  TOWN   OF  SALEM,  MAINE 
BY  WALTER  S.  HEATH 

IN  1814  one  Benjamin  Heath,  Jr.,  a 
blacksmith  from  Farmington,  came  to  this 
section,  then  known  as  a  part  of  Phillips, 
and  selected  Lot  No.  16  in  the  6th  Range, 
upon  which  he  felled  several  acres  of  trees. 
Returning  in  the  fall  to  his  home  in  Farm- 
ington, he  made  his  preparations  for  the 
next  year.  In  1815  he  again  came  here 
accompanied  by  Albert  Hayford  and  Is- 
rael Doble  of  Canton.  Heath  partially 
cleared  his  first  chopping,  planted  it  to  corn 
and  then  felled  more  trees  and  built  a  log- 
house.  Early  in  the  fall  a  frost  killed  all 
his  corn,  which  dulled  his  courage  for  a 
short  period,  causing  him  to  change  his 
plans  for  a  time.  When,  recovering  from 
this  he  took  his  traps,  started  for  the  woods 


I3rfef 


upon  a  hunt,  and  upon  his  return  had  fur 
enough  to  pay  for  his  lot.  Albert  Hayford 
settled  upon  Lot  15  Range  6,  and  Israel 
Doble  upon  Lot  15  Range  7,  thus  bring- 
ing the  three  very  near  together,  and  for 
a  time  these  sturdy  pioneers'  axes  could 
be  heard  all  around  the  circuit  as  they  felled 
the  lofty  maples. 

Albert  Hayford  was  the  first  to  move 
his  family  here,  in  the  early  part  of  1816, 
but  was  followed  very  closely  by  Heath 
and  Doble.  Later  in  the  same  season 
David  and  Samuel  Church  of  Farmington 
came  up  the  spotted  line  from  the  Dyar 
neighborhood.  In  1817,  Benjamin  Heath, 
ist,  and  his  son,  Simeon  A.,  came  and  set- 
tled upon  Lot  1 6  Range  8,  and  soon  built 
the  Heath  Mill,  so  called. 

By  this  time  settlers  began  to  come  into 
the  northwest  part  of  Freeman  and  a  town 
organization  was  the  main  topic  of  con- 
versation at  all  public  gatherings.  The 
52 


falter 


first  road  laid  into  this  section,  of  which 
we  find  any  record,  was  laid  by  the  town 
of  Freeman  in  1818,  extending  from  Isaac 
Mayo's  to  Paul  Robinson's. 

In  that  part  of  Salem  formerly  a  part 
of  Freeman,  the  first  settlers  were  Ebene- 
zer  Collier,  Zack  Clough,  Ephraim  Nick- 
erson,  Robert  Blake,  Isaac  Porter,  Moses 
Patterson,  Peter  Gay,  Eben  Briggs,  Merit 
Dyar,  David  Harlow,  Oliver  Turner  and 
Elijah  Heath. 

In  that  part  of  Salem  formerly  a  part 
of  Phillips  the  Heaths,  Hayfords,  Dobles 
and  Churches  were  soon  followed  by  Dan- 
iel Graffam,  Abram  Tarr,  James  Taylor 
and  the  Carls. 

INCORPORATED  AS  NORTH  SALEM 

In   1821   a   petition  was   in   circulation 

for  a  town  to  be  known  as  North   Salem. 

In   the  winter   of  1822-23  tn^s  petition, 

headed  by  Isaac  Clark,  was  presented  to 

53 


I3rtef 


the  Legislature  and  granted  in  the  face  of 
strong  opposition  from  Freeman  and  Phil- 
lips. Freeman,  having  declared  strongly 
in  opposition  to  the  incorporation  of  North 
Salem,  chose  a  committee  of  five,  viz. : 
Jonathan  Brown,  Barnabas  Whitney,  Si- 
mon Putnam,  Thomas  Pennell  and  John 
Welcome,  to  go  before  the  Legislature 
and  oppose  it.  Phillips  also  voted  to  op- 
pose it.  In  the  House  of  Representatives, 
January  10,  1823,  the  acts  of  incorpora- 
tion were  approved  by  Governor  Albion 
K.  Parris.  From  the  annals  of  the  Town 
we  glean  the  following  facts  : 

In  1 823  the  total  valuation  of  the  Town 
was  $4,362.70. 

First  town  meeting  was  called  at  S.  A. 
Heath's  barn,  May  10,  1823. 

First  board  selectmen  :  Ebenezer  Col- 
lier, Ephraim  Nickerson,  David  Church. 
First  town  clerk,  David  Church. 

These  town  officers  have  left  a  record 
5'4 


Walter 


of  which  any  Town  would  be  proud.  As 
they  were  continued  in  office  several  years, 
we  believe  their  services  were  highly  prized. 

First  School  Board  :  Robert  Blake, 
S.  A.  Heath  and  Oliver  Turner. 

Voted  that  future  meetings  be  called 
by  posting  warrant  at  S.  A.  Heath's  grist 
mill. 

Whole  number  of  poll  tax-payers  in 
1823,  53;  tax,  $1.47. 

Houses  and  barns  were  valued  and  taxed 
separately.  Whole  number  of  houses  taxed, 
13  ;  valued  from  $10.00  to  $45.00.  Whole 
number  of  barns  taxed,  17;  valued  from 
$10.00  to  $29.00. 

In  1824  the  town  voted  that  each  sol- 
dier be  allowed  twenty  cents  on  his  yearly 
tax  to  pay  for  his  dinner  on  muster  day. 

In  1825  the  town  of  Salem  paid  Dan- 

iel Clough  sixty-four  dollars  for  building 

a  bridge  at  Heath's  mill  in  the  town  of 

Phillips  in  the  year  1821.    This  job  was 

55 


taken  by  contract  of  the  town  of  Phil- 
lips. 

In  1827  another  black  mark  appears 
against  the  town  of  Phillips  in  the  fact 
that  they  cheated  the  little  town  of  Salem 
out  of  their  proportion  of  school  fund  for 
the  year  1823. 

In  1828  the  town  voted  to  raise  five 
dollars  to  furnish  ammunition  for  her  sol- 
diers on  muster  days. 

FIRST   POST-OFFICE 

In  the  year  1828  a  post-office  was  estab- 
lished, and  Simeon  A.  Heath  appointed 
post-master.  Prior  to  this  time  a  sort  of 
temporary  post-office  had  been  established 
here  for  several  years,  to  which  mail  was 
brought  from  Marshall  Whitney's  at  Free- 
man Centre,  the  nearest  post-office. 

In  1829  school  teachers  were  paid  in 
grain  for  their  services. 

In  1830  and  1831  Peleg  Durfey  and 
56 


Greenlief  Davis,  on  complaint  of  Samuel 
Blake  of  Phillips,  were  fined  for  selling 
liquors,  and  in  1 832  the  town  voted  to  pay 
back  the  fine. 

In  1830  Oliver  Turner,  Jr.,  who  was 
chosen  Captain  of  the  first  Military  Com- 
pany ever  organized  in  Salem,  resigned, 
and  Abram  A.  Heath  was  elected  August 
yth ;  Lieutenant,  Abram  L.  Hammond  ; 
Ensign,  Abram  Tarr.  In  1833  Abram  L. 
Hammond  was  chosen  Captain,  Willison 
Clark,  Lieutenant. 

In  1834  North  was  dropped  from  the 
name  and  the  town  was  called  Salem. 

In  1835  Willison  Clark  was  chosen  Cap- 
tain, Joseph  Soule,  Lieutenant,  Charles 
D.  Ellsworth,  Ensign. 

In  1835  the  first  Representative  to  the 
Legislature,  George  Carl,  was  chosen. 

In  1836  an  agitation  was  begun  in  favor 
of  a  County  road  from  Salem  through 
Redington  to  the  Robert  Mann  farm  on 
57 


I3rtef 


Dead  River,  and  a  petition  was  presented 
to  the  County  Commissioners,  who,  after 
viewing  the  route,  denied  the  petition. 

In  1837  wolves  made  their  appearance 
in  such  numbers  that  the  town  chose  a 
committee  to  confer  with  other  towns  in 
devising  means  to  exterminate  them.  They 
sucked  the  blood  of  many  a  fat  sheep,  ate 
slices  of  steak  from  young  colts,  treed 
boys,  and  did  lots  of  other  wicked  things. 
The  late  E.  G.  Blake  of  Farmington  could 
truthfully  say  that  the  wolves  were  a  terror, 
having  been  driven  by  then  up  a  tree  at 
noonday  and  there  obliged  to  remain  until 
rescued  at  5  p.  M.  by  his  father. 

The  town  voted  that  its  surplus  reve- 
nue be  let  under  the  supervision  of  three 
directors  to  persons  in  town  in  sums  from 
twenty-five  to  fifty  dollars. 

July  13,  1838,  Benj.  Heath,  Jr.,  was 
elected  Quarter-Master  ;  July  24,  Daniel 
Heath  was  elected  Adjutant  -  General. 
58 


Walter 


1838  Joshua  Soule  was  appointed  post- 
master, and  a  new  mail  route  established 
running  from  Strong  to  Salem. 

1839.  Joshua  Soule  was  elected  Re- 
presentative from  Salem  District. 

In  1840  Wm.  S.  Pottle  was  drowned  in 
the  Oliver  pond. 

In  1841  Simeon  A.  Heath  was  ap- 
pointed post-master,  and  Frederick  Rich- 
ards, Captain  of  Infantry  Co.  ;  Andrew 
C.  Keen,  Lieutenant. 

In  1842  an  accident  happened  to  one 
Abram  A.  Heath,  a  soldier,  while  saluting 
officers  just  elected.  He  lost  a  hand  by 
the  bursting  of  his  gun.  This  year,  1842, 
seems  to  be  the  most  noted  year  in  this 
town's  history,  as  there  were  ten  couples 
published,  and  all  parties  thereto  were 
residents  of  Salem  at  the  time. 

1843.    Jonn    F.    Russ   was    appointed 
post-master,  October    12.     First   muster 
held  in  Salem,  September,  1843. 
59 


1845.  Benj.  B.   Bradbury  (the  notori- 
ously stubborn  juryman,  who  stood  out 
against  eleven  others  in  a  certain  case  tried 
before   them,  and  was  vindicated  at    the 
next  term  of  court),  was  appointed  post- 
master. 

Samuel  S.  Lambert  was  chosen  Repre- 
sentative to  the  Legislature. 

VALLEY    ROAD    BUILT 

1846.  The  Valley  Road  to  Strong  was 
built,  which  was  a  great   convenience  to 
parties  who  transported  lumber  and  other 
heavy  freight  "  down  river." 

In  this  year  a  jolly  old  school  teacher 
by  the  name  of  Towle  used  to  sling  the 
heels  of  his  long-legged  boys  so  high  that 
they  would  leave  their  prints  in  the  ceil- 
ing. 

A  starch  factory  was  built  by  a  company 
consisting  of  Moses  Patterson,  Samuel  S. 
Lambert,  and  Robert  Blake.  This  seemed 
60 


Walter 


to  give  the  town  a  slight  boom  for  a  few 
years,  but  in  the  end  was  a  damage  to  the 
land  if  not  to  the  owners. 

1849.  Daniel    Heath    was    appointed 
post-master. 

1850.  Abram    A.   Heath   was  chosen 
Representative. 

In  1851,  Oct.  4,  Company  H  of  Rifle- 
men, First  Regiment,  was  organized. 
James  Davis,  Captain  ;  Daniel  Heath, 
First  Lieutenant  ;  S.  S.  Lambert,  Second 
Lieutenant.  After  the  completion  of  this 
company  organization,  a  band  was  organ- 
ized, consisting  of  eleven  pieces,  the  mu- 
sic from  which  we  think  we  can  now  hear, 
though  we  can  no  longer  see  those  officers 
and  soldiers  parade  so  proudly  up  and 
down  the  streets. 

In  1853  Wm.  B.  Porter  was  appointed 
post-master. 

In  1854  Moses  Patterson  was  ap- 
pointed post-master.  Old  Master  Cush- 
61 


Brief 


man  taught  a  private  school  in  the  Mills 
District.  Had  a  leather  pocket  in  his  vest 
in  which  he  carried  his  snuff,  frequently 
taking  it  out  between  his  thumb  and  fin- 
gers and  throwing  it  at  his  nose,  as  the 
pitcher  throws  the  ball ;  but  as  his  hand 
was  a  little  unsteady,  he  occasionally 
dropped  large  bunches  upon  the  floor, 
which  was  a  bad  practice,  as  all  the  girls, 
now  old  maids,  got  in  the  habit  of  follow- 
ing him  around  to  take  snuff  and  have  not 
wholly  forgotten  the  practice  yet. 

1855.  Occurred  the  most  destructive 
freshet  ever  known  in  Salem,  destroying 
roads  and  bridges,  and  carrying  away  the 
saw-mill,  a  blacksmith  shop,  and  upsetting 
the  grist-mill  and  ruining  the  starch  factory. 

1855.  Daniel  Heath  fearing  damage 
by  the  flood  takes  his  family  upon  his 
back  through  water  2  ft.  deep  to  a  place 
of  safety  and  Wm.  B.  Porter  also  removed 
his  family  and  all  his  household  goods  in 
62 


falter 


great  haste  from  their  home.  Luckily  how- 
ever the  flood  soon  subsided  and  their 
homes  were  left  but  slightly  damaged. 

1857.  Jeremiah  Porter  was  appointed 
post-master,  and  Abel   Pottle  chosen  Re- 
presentative. He  carried  a  petition,  signed 
by  a  large  majority  of  Salem   tax-payers, 
before  the  Legislature  asking  the  right  to 
turn  the  Quick  Stream.    Petition  granted, 
and  the  stream  turned  the  following  year, 
which  proved  to  be  a  great  saving  to  the 
town  in  repairs  of  roads  and  bridges. 

TOWN  HOUSE 

1858.  Town  House  built  by  contract 
by  Cyrus  J.  Ellsworth.    The  first  service 
ever  held  in  this  house  was  the  funeral  of 
Benjamin    Heath,   Jr.     Sermon   by    Rev. 
Ezra'Winslow,  July  8,  1858. 

1860.     Small-pox  breaks  out  in  Salem, 
but  luckily  is  confined  to  one  family  in 
which  but  one  case  proves  fatal. 
63 


I3rief 


1 86 1.  The    diphtheria    becomes    epi- 
demic,   and    upwards     of    thirty    deaths 
within     the    year    result,    mostly    among 
those    under    twenty-one    years    of  age. 
Moses  Patterson  appointed  post-master. 

1862.  The  last  military  organization 
effected  in  Salem,  with   Charles   Clayton, 
Captain  ;  W.  S:  Heath,  Lieutenant. 

1863.  Daniel  Graffam  appointed  post- 
master, but  moved  from  town  before  being 
commissioned. 

1864.  George    W.    Mills    appointed 
post-master.  Salem  furnished  twenty-three 
soldiers   for   the  Civil   War,  only  ten  of 
whom  ever  returned  home. 

1865.  Again    the   tide  of  emigration 
turns  westward  and  several    families  turn 
their  faces  that  way.   Joseph  Bangs  chosen 
Representative. 

May  2,  1870,  Benj.  Heath,  the  first  pio- 
neer of  Salem  dies  at  the  age  of  82  years 
7  months. 

64 


Walter 


1877.  The  most  destructive  fire  ever 
known  in  Salem  destroys  the  home  of 
Geo.  W.  Mills  together  with  some  stock. 

1  8  84.  The  last  surviving  petitioner  for 
the  incorporation  of  Salem,  Daniel  W. 
Graffam,  passes  away  at  the  age  of  91 
years  and  5  months;  just  prior  to  the  ad- 
vent of  the  railroad  in  which  he  was  so 
much  interested. 


THE    OLD    RED    SCHOOL    HOUSE 


CHAIRMAN  :   Now  let  us  take  a  drink 
from  the  "  Old  Oaken  Bucket  "  and  make 
it  a  refreshing  loving-cup. 
9.   Singing  —  The  Old  Oaken  Bucket  — 

How  dear  to  my  heart  are  the  scenes  of  my  childhood, 

When  fond  recollection  presents  them  to  view! 
The  orchard,  the  meadow,  the  deep  tangled  wildwood, 

And  every  loved  spot  which  my  infancy  knew. 
The  wide  spreading  pond,  and  the  mill  that  stood  by  it, 

The  bridge  and  the  rock  where  the  cataract  fell, 
The  cot  of  my  father,  the  dairy  house  nigh  it, 

And  e'en  the  rude  bucket  that  hung  in  the  well. 
Chorus. 

The  old  oaken  bucket,  the  iron-bound  bucket, 
The  moss-covered  bucket  that  hung  in  the  well. 

That  moss-covered  bucket  I  hail  as  a  treasure, 

For  often  at  noon  when  returned  from  the  field 
I  found  it  the  source  of  an  exquisite  pleasure, 

The  purest  and  sweetest  that  nature  can  yield. 
How  ardent  I  seized  it,  with  hands  that  were  glowing, 

And  quick  to  the  white  pebbled  bottom  it  fell, 
Then  soon  with  the  emblem  of  truth  overflowing, 

And  dripping  with  coolness,  it  rose  from  the  well. 
Chorus. 

66 


How  sweet  from  the  green  mossy  brim  to  receive  it, 

As,  poised  on  the  curb,  it  inclined  to  my  lips! 
Not  a  full  blushing  goblet  could  tempt  me  to  leave  it, 

Tho'  filled  with  the  nectar  that  Jupiter  sips. 
And  now,  far  removed  from  the  loved  habitation, 

The  tear  of  regret  will  intrusively  swell, 
As  fancy  reverts  to  my  father's  plantation, 

And  sighs  for  the  bucket  that  hung  in  the  well. 

Chorus. 

The  old  oaken  bucket,  the  iron-bound  bucket, 
The  moss-covered  bucket  that  hung  in  the  well. 

CHAIRMAN  :  I  had  an  acquaintance  with 
Charley  Bangs,  not  here  only,  but  also 
at  the  Academy  at  Farmington,  and  later 
at  Lewiston  when  we  roomed  together 
preparing  for  college.  During  this  inti- 
mate acquaintance,  I  learned  of  his  poetic 
temperament  and,  after  seeing  a  poem  of 
his  in  the  Chronicle  a  few  years  ago,  on  an 
Old  Home  Week,  I  had  no  hesitation  in 
asking  him  to  prepare  a  poem  for  Salem's 
Old  Home  Day. 

67 


POEM 

BY  CHARLES  H .  BANGS  OF  EVERETT,  MASS. 

We  've  come  to-day  to  greet  old  friends, 

In  this,  our  native  town, 
But  Time  has  kept  his  score  with  us 

And  Age  has  chalked  it  down. 
In  silvering  hair  and  wrinkles'  trace, 

We  can  but  ill  disguise; 
Yet  soon  forget  when  warm,   clasped 

hands 

Are  backed  by  welcoming  eyes, 
And  lips  recall  those  bygone  days 

Which  rouse  some  youthful  thrill, 
Till   trooping   scenes,    marched   in  re- 
view, 
Our  thoughts  and  mem'ries  fill. 


Now  we've  come  back,  who've  long 

been  gone 
In  quest  of  bread,  or  eke  renown, 


CHARLES  H.  BANGS 


And  homage  pay  to  those  who  stay 
To  guard  the  dear  old  town. 

While  not  for  strangers  here,  alone 
Have  welcoming  bells  been  rung, 

68 


Charles  ^* 


And  stories  told  of  days  of  old 

And  sweet  old  songs  been  sung: 
But  first,  to-day,  to  square  the  score 

On  which  old  Time  's  intent; 
We  '11  whirl  his  dial  back  on  him 

Till  every  wheel  and  cog  is  bent; 
For  well  we  know  how  he  deceives; 

(So  often  to  our  sorrow.) 
He  holds  in  check  our  joys,  to-day, 

And  slyly  hints,  to-morrow, 
Till  we,  long  since,  have  wisely  grown 

Distrustful  of  his  capers; 
He  may  be,  e'en  while  marching  on, 

Now  making  out  our  papers. 
But  as  we  turn  his  dial  back, 

For  fifty  years,  about, 
When  every  waking  hour  of  ours 

Seemed  filled  with  laugh  or  shout, 
We  wonder  now  with  all  our  souls, 

Why  we  'd  no  thought  to  linger, 
Instead  of  rushing  gaily  on 

At  beckon  of  his  finger. 
'T  is  true  enough,  in  those  old  days 

He  treated  us  more  kindly, 
But  that  was  just  his  artful  game 

69 


That  we  might  follow  blindly; 
Since,  when  he  has  us  in  his  power, 

(You  know  our  pitiful  cases.) 
Right  grimly  now  he  guides  the  plough 

That 's  furrowing  up  our  faces. 
But  though  we  're  bound  behind  his  wheel, 

To-day,  we  '11  slip  the  tether, 
And  roaming  back  like  children  tired, 

Beneath  the  old  roof  gather. 
And  hear  from  those  dear  lips,  long  dumb, 

The  mother's  crooning  song; 
Sweet  tones,  that  wooed  in  childhood's  days 

To  slumbers  deep  and  long, 
Shall  all  the  burdening  years  dispel 

With  that  same  magic  wand, 
Which  wrought  in  yore  its  spell  o'er  us 

And  echoes  yet  from  mem'ry  land. 
And  so  in  dreams  of  youth  restored, 

We  '11  pass  the  welcome   night; 
And  dreaming  still,  at  dawn  we  '11  find 

Youth's  world,  with  rose  tints  bright. 
Soft  curls  replace  the  locks  of  gray, 

Dimples,  the  wrinkles'  traces  ; 
The  mask  of  age  is  laid  aside 

For  one-time  youthful  faces. 

70 


Charles  ^* 


Again  we  hear  the  father's  voice, 

As  sounds  his  morning  call, 
That  summons  us  to  task  or  school  ; 

The  children,  one  and  all, 
Who,  gathering  'round  the  breakfast  board, 

Partake  the  morning  fare, 
Joint  product  of  the  father's  toil, 

The  mother's  frugal  care. 

And  now,  once  more  in  youthful  glee 

Our  pattering  feet  shall  find 
The  pleasant  paths  whereon  they  trod, 

The  early  joys,  long  left  behind. 
Time's  touch  is  now  with  gentle  hand, 

As  in  those  days  of  yore, 
And  fancy  paints  in  old-time  hues 

The  earth  and  skies  once  more. 
The  silver  lining  of  the  cloud 

Is  turned  full  face  our  way, 
While  joyous  shout  comes  bubbling  out 

To  greet  the  dawning  day. 
The  lowing  kine  with  sounding  bell 

Salutes  our  listening  ears, 
And  seems  like  some  lost  melody 

From  out  the  distant  years. 

71 


And  now  again,  our  eyes  behold 

The  school-house  at  the  line,1 
Where  first  we  learned,  with  A-B-C, 

To  delve  in  knowledge's  mine. 
Likewise,  the  same  schoolmaster2 

Who  greets  us  here  to-day, 
Had  then,  at  times,  as  he  has  now, 

A  most  persuasive  way  ; 
But  we  '11  forgive  his  rod  of  birch 

With  which  he  rammed  home  lore, 
And  meekly  stand  with  jackets  tanned, 

To  feel  like  boys  once  more. 
Yet  there's  one  lesson  he  ne'er  taught ; 

Of  full  content  we  lack, 

1  This  was  a  log  school-house  on  my  father's  farm,  four  or  five 
rods  from  the  Barker  farm,  on  the  old  road  some  thirty  rods  north 
of  the  present  one,  where   it  now  crosses  the  line.      My  recollec- 
tion of  this  time  is  not  very  distinct,  and  the  most  marked  was  the 
feet  that  one  of  the  larger  boys   made  and   presented    me  with  a 
small  board  hand-sled,  thus  showing  that  the  seeds  of  knowledge 
were  planted  deep  and  those  of  pleasure  near  the  surface. 

2  This    is   "poetic    license,"    since    I    do    not    remember    the 
teacher.      Also  the  Hon.  Joel  Wilbur,  who  so  ably  entertained  us 
at  the  Old  Home  meeting,  is  faithfully  represented  when  I  speak 
of  his  persuasive  ability  j  and  sadly  out  of  character  with  a  rod  in 
hand  :  but  I  am  taking  him  as  the  representative  of  the  school- 
master of  that  date. 

72 


C^arleg  ^* 


For  the  eyes  of  youth  look  forward, 

As  those  of  age  turn  back. 
We  envy,  now,  the  larger  boys  ; 

E'en  wish  that  we  were  men. 
We  sigh  for  cares,  that  bring  gray  hairs  ; 

So  foolish  were  we  then, 
Whose  care-free  eye  could  watch  the  skies 

Where  rainbow  colors  blend, 
To  madly  seek  with  eager  feet, 

False  treasure  at  its  end. 


But  we  have  had  our  wish  to-day, 

So  we  won't  moralize, 
But  hasten  'round  'mongst  old  time  scenes 

We  now  know  how  to  prize. 
We  would,  indeed,  for  this  review, 

The  hours  prolong,  the  moments  stay  ; 
While  all  the  vanished  joys  of  youth 

Were  crowded  in  a  single  day. 
But  Time,  'gainst  whom  we  've  filed  complaint, 

Grants  us  at  least  one  favor; 
He  sifts  from  life  its  bitterness, 

And  leaves  the  pleasant  flavor. 
So,  when  I  speak  of  early  days, 

And  mention  joy  and  pleasure, 

73 


Don't  think  they  raised  in  this  old  town 

Mere  gentlemen  of  leisure. 
For  those  were  strenuous  times,  indeed  ; 

Each  day  full  marked  with  duty, 
Here,  every  boy  was  trained  for  use, 

Not  ornament  nor  beauty. 
The  girls,  likewise,  lined  up  for  work ; 

(We  'd  then  no  laws  'gainst  labor) 
'T  was  more  in  vogue  to  wash  and  bake 

Than  gossip  with  a  neighbor. 
So  thus  our  holidays  were  rare, 

And  work-days  steady  diet ; 
Yet  still,  we  had  our  share  of  fun, 

Not  always  staid  or  quiet, 
For  when  it  rained  too  hard  to  work, 

We  'd  ofttime  go  a-fishing  ; 
Down  through  the  stream,   knee  deep    we'd 
wade, 

No  better  path  were  wishing. 
And  though  the  rain  streamed  down  our  backs 

In  torrents  like  a  flood, 
It  simply  added  to  our  zest; 

It  never  chilled  our  blood. 
And  when  the  brook,  beneath  some  tree 

Would  form  a  crystal  pool 

74 


Charles  &  Bang* 


Our  peering  eyes  would  see  a.  trout 

In  its  limpid  waters,  cool, 
Whose  length  of  spotted  beauty  seemed 

(Half  hidden  'neath  a  root) 
To  our  excited  vision, 

To  measure  more  'n  a  foot. 

O  glorious  hour  of  youth  ! 

'Tis  thine,  a  golden  prize, 
When  hopes  and  joys,  as  well  as  fish, 

Seemed  thrice  their  natural  size; 
And  though  the  glamour  'bout  the  fish 

May  hold  me  still  in  thrall, 
Some  hopes  I  held  in  those  old  days 

Have  shrunk  up  mighty  small. 
But  then,  we're  busy,  all  life's  course, 

Adjusting  hopes  anew, 
Or  finding  ones  to  fit  in  place 

Of  those  we  've  proved  untrue. 
Perhaps,  in  part,  this  helps  explain 

The  ingenuous  joys  of  youth; 
Each  black  cloud,  then,  seemed  false  omen, 

The  halo  burst  above  it,  truth. 
But  hark  !  what  are  those  sounds  we  hear  ? 

The  muffled  tramp  of  feet. 

75 


'T  is  Salem's  old  militia  guard 

Now  marching  up  the  street. 
To  roll  of  drum,  and  fife's  shrill  tone, 

Give  mem'ry  now  full  sway; 
And  stand,  please,  at  attention, 

They  're  marching  past  this  way: 
For  all  are  there,  in  rank  or  file, 

Each  old-time  face  we  knew  ; 
How  gladly  would  we  'compass  earth 

To  greet  them  once  anew. 
And  here,  they  're  coming  into  sight, 

With  steady  march  and  tread  ; 
Their  eyes  to  front,  their  forms  erect, 

The  Captain  at  their  head. 
And  now,  they  're  wheeling  into  line 

To  offer  us  salute, 
With  motions  military  still; 

The  orders,  though,  are  mute, 
For  of  that  goodly  company 

Of  eighty  men  or  more, 
There's  left,  this  side  the  Great  Divide, 

But  scarcely  three  or  four.1 

1  I  was  informed  at  the  meeting,  by  Mr.  Sumner  Lovejoy,  who 
again  played  the  fife,  accompanied  by  drums,  immediately  after  the 
reading  of  these  lines,  that  so  far  as  he  was  aware,  he  was  the  only 

76 


Charles  f  . 


Now,  while  they  're  standing  here  in  line, 

With  weapons  at  "present," 
Let  all  well  scan  each  silent  man, 

While  reverent  heads  are  bent. 
To  these,  our  fathers  loyal  proved, 

To  State  and  friends  most  true, 
Who  've  gathered  here  to  greet  us  now 

In  this,  their  last  review. 
But  now,  once  more,  we  '11  change  the  vein, 

For  this  is  History's  art, 
To  tell  of  deeds  and  acts  long  past: 

Mine  is  the  lighter  part. 
And  orators  and  speakers,  all, 

Forgotten  tales  have  told, 
Recalling  to  our  mind  once  more, 

Full  many  a  deed  of  old. 
And  one  has  welcomed  us  in  speech, 

But  all  have  clasped  our  hand 

living  representative  of  Salem's  old  Militia  Company.  It  seems 
to  me  rather  a  remarkable  coincidence  that  an  arrangement  was 
made  that  the  fife  and  drum  should  be  played,  entirely  without  the 
knowledge  of  the  writer  of  these  lines,  till  after  they  were  read  ;  and 
the  nature  of  the  lines  was  entirely  unknown  to  the  Committee 
of  Arrangement,  previous  to  their  reading  5  and  that  one  of  the 
trio  furnishing  this  reminder  of  Salem's  military  days  should  be 
the  only  surviving  member  of  the  old  Company. 

77 


With  depth  of  fulsome  earnestness, 

To  meet  each  heart's  demand. 
But  this  has  all  been  answered  well 

By  one  who  knows  the  art; 
Began,  in  fact,  in  early  life, 

To  practice  for  the  part. 
'T  is  meet  that  royal  welcome's  answer  be 

By  prince  among  good  fellows; 
He  learned  to  blow,  long  years  ago,1 

His  father's  blacksmith  bellows. 

For  this  brief  day,  we  're  boys  at  play, 

But  Time  now  claims  his  own, 
And  marshals  us  in  line  once  more, 

Who  've  gray  and  wrinkled  grown. 
So  we  '11  fall  in  and  catch  the  step, 

This  hope  our  flag  at  fore, 
That  when  we  land,  no  bigot  hand 

Has  closed  the  open  door. 

1  This  seems  my  only  chance  to  get  back  at  my  old  friend, 
Collamore,  who  has  possessed  all  his  life  a  great  faculty  of  making 
firm  friends.  Another  faculty  he  seems  to  possess  is  that  of  es- 
timating their  ability,  about  as  we  estimate  the  size  of  the  fish  that 
broke  our  line,  and  then  getting  them  to  try  to  live  up  to  it.  This 
accounts  for  these  lines,  which  I  am  inflicting  upon  the  good  old 
friends  of  my  boyhood  days  in  Salem. 

78 


Music  :  Fife,  Sumner  Lovejoy  ; 

Drum,  G.  A.  Page,  Kingfield. 
CHAIRMAN  : 

Among  the  Salem  families  that  have 
made  their  mark  in  the  world,  none  has  been 
more  prominent  than  the  Pottle  family. 
We  are  fortunate  in  having  with  us  to-day 
Abel,  who  has  been  and  still  is  an  honored 
clergyman,  and  George,  who  has  been  hon- 
ored by  his  neighbors  with  an  election  to 
the  mayoralty  of  Lewiston,  his  present 
home,  and  is  also  one  of  the  State  assessors. 
I  have  forgiven  them  that  their  father  (a 
Republican)  once  defeated  mine  (a  Demo- 
crat) in  an  election  to  the  legislature,  and  I 
have  at  the  same  time  almost  forgiven  the 
boys  that  they  beat  me  in  the  spelling 
matches.  So  they  can  be  perfectly  free  to 
speak  of  these  things  in  the  memories  they 
will  now  give  of  the  Eastern  part  of  the 
town,  which  extends  from  the  Centre  Bridge 
to  the  Kingfield  line. 
79 


SOME   MEMORIES 

OF  THE  EASTERN  PART  OF  THE  TOWN 
BY  HON.  GEORGE  POTTLE 

DEAR  FRIENDS  :  —  It  would  be  impos- 
sible for  me  to  express  in  words  the  satis- 
faction it  gives  me  to  meet  you  all  on  this 
occasion ;  here  in  the  beautiful  valley  of 
good  old  Salem,  surrounded  on  every  hand 
by  objects  that  suggest  the  scenes  and 
events  of  other  days. 

First  of  all,  I  wish  to  express  my  grati- 
tude to  Collamore  Heath,  as  we  used  to 
call  him,  the  original  and  chief  promoter 
of  this  reunion,  and  I  desire  to  include  all 
others  who  have  cooperated  with  him  in 
making  all  arrangements  for  a  successful 
meeting.  With  them  it  has  been  a  labor 
of  love,  and  they  deserve  our  heartfelt 
thanks. 

It  is  now  thirty-eight  years,  more  than 
80 


l^on.  George  Bottle 


a  generation,  since  I  left  my  home  in  this 
town,  as  a  boy,  to  make  my  own  way  in  the 
world  and  work  out  my  own  destiny,  and 
as  the  remaining  members  of  our  family 
removed  hence  a  few  years  later,  I  have  not 
kept  in  close  touch  with  the  town,  with  its 
affairs,  and  with  its  people,  as 
I  otherwise  might  have  done. 
It  is  true  I  have  been  here 
frequently  ;  have  made  yearly 
visits  ;  but  they  have  been 
hurried  trips  ;  a  ride  over 
through  our  old  school  dis- 
trict, past  the  little  red  school- 
house  where  many  of  the  most 
precious  hours  of  my  early  life 
were  spent,  and  farther  on  to 
the  spot  where  stood  our  old 
homestead,  to  look  for  the  few  familiar 
landmarks  remaining  there  ;  and  then  re- 
turning to  yonder  burial  ground  to  stand 
by  the  graves  of  father  and  mother,  of 
81 


GEORGE   POTTLE 


Jttemorieg 


brothers     and     sisters,  —  all     of    blessed 
memory. 

I  do  not  know  that  I  can  recall  much 
that  occurred  in  that  portion  of  the  town 
that  may  interest  you.  It  was  a  narrow 
horizon  which  surrounded  that  little  neigh- 
borhood. "  The  annals  of  our  lives  were 
short  and  simple."  There  was  the  regular 
routine  of  seed-time  and  harvest,  common 
to  all  rural  communities  ;  the  endless  chain, 
the  plodding  work  upon  the  farm.  We 
had  few  amusements.  There  were  no  trav- 
eling libraries  in  those  days,  and  the  few 
books  and  weekly  newspapers  we  had 
were  read  and  re-read  until  we  almost 
knew  them  by  heart.  The  events  of  the 
year  were  largely  a  repetition  of  the  history 
of  the  year  before,  and  of  other  years. 
"  And  thus  they  kept  the  noiseless  tenor 
of  their  way."  There  were  few  families 
in  the  neighborhood,  but  most  of  them 
contained  large  groups  of  children.  No 
82 


^on,  George  Bottle 


happier  homes  existed  anywhere  than 
those  in  the  eastern  part  of  Salem.  I  can 
recall  most  of  the  older  residents  in  those 
days.  Besides  my  father,  Abel  Pottle,  I 
can  recall  William  Ellsworth,  Ebenezer 
Briggs,  Eben  Briggs,  Robert  Blake,  Rufus 
K.  Blake,  Colonel  James  Davis,  Jeremiah 
D.  Ellsworth,  Thomas  Leadbetter,  Har- 
rison Clark,  Bartlett  Lovejoy,  Thomas 
Whittier,  Samuel  Perry,  Hamilton  Re- 
cords and  Robert  Mann.  One  by  one 
they  have  all  passed  to  the  great  beyond. 
Their  children  are  scattered  far  and  wide, 
working  out  their  own  destiny  in  different 
sections  of  the  country. 

To-day,  a  trip  through  the  old  school 
district,  once  prosperous,  now  desolate,  is 
a  melancholy  journey  to  one  who  lived 
there  in  those  earlier  and  better  days. 
Mount  Abram  alone  retains  all  the  beauty 
of  its  youth. 

But  the  golden  days  of  my  earlier  life 
83 


were  the  school  days.  Those  hours  I 
spent  in  the  little  red  school-house.  Look- 
ing forward  to  the  ten  or  twelve  weeks  of 
the  winter  term  lightened  the  burden  of 
the  wearisome  toil  on  the  farm  in  summer. 
I  remember  the  school  teachers  of  those 
days  better  than  any  one  else.  My  first 
teacher  at  the  summer  term  was  Carrie  F. 
Nash,  a  gifted  and  accomplished  young 
woman.  Her  relatives,  with  whom  she 
lived  when  here,  removed  from  the  town 
a  few  years  later,  and  I  have  not  had  the 
privilege  of  meeting  her  since,  until  to- 
day. I  rejoice  that  her  voice  will  be  heard 
in  these  exercises. 

My  teacher  at  the  first  winter  term  I 
attended  was  Sara  May,  whom  some  of 
you  no  doubt  knew  in  her  lifetime.  In 
mind  and  heart,  she  was  one  of  the  noblest 
young  women  I  have  ever  known.  She 
became  eminent  as  an  educator,  and  after 
a  long  and  useful  career  was  summoned 
84 


"l&t  ^ott  (0eorge  Bottle 

to  her  reward.  Another  and  a  most  excel- 
lent teacher  was  Peninnah  Davis,  a  resi- 
dent of  the  school  district.  Many  of  you 
no  doubt  remember  the  pleasant  home 
of  her  father,  Colonel  Davis,  under  the 
shadow  of  Mount  Abram.  Her  discipline 
was  very  strict  and  exacting  —  unreasona- 
bly so,  I  then  thought,  but  since  my  school 
days  are  over,  looking  backward,  I  honor 
her  for  the  fact  that  she  held  us  strictly  to 
our  studies  and  made  us  walk  in  the  way 
we  should  go. 

Another  most  efficient  teacher  was 
Walter  S.  Heath.  He  was  born  here,  has 
lived  among  you  a  respected  citizen  all  his 
days,  and  is  one  whose  later  years  have 
been  embittered  and  saddened  by  the  loss 
of  his  three  beloved  children.  I  think  we 
should  all  express  our  thanks  to  him  for 
the  able  and  interesting  review  of  the  his- 
tory of  the  town  which  he  has  given  us 
to-day. 

85 


jttemorieg 


I  will  mention  only  one  more,  William 
C.  Winter  of  Kingfield,  who  taught  our 
school  in  the  winter  of  '61,  preceding  the 
Civil  War.  He  was  a  most  interesting 
young  man,  and  quite  well  informed  re- 
garding our  country's  history.  He  used 
to  talk  with  us  much  out  of  school  hours, 
and  I  verily  believe  I  learned  more  in  that 
way  than  I  did  studying  my  books  in 
school  hours.  After  the  close  of  the  term 
Mr.  Winter  secured  a  position  in  Lewis- 
ton,  and  some  months  later,  during  the 
year,  enlisted  in  the  army  of  the  Union. 
After  honorable  service  he  returned  home 
shattered  in  health,  soon  to  die.  Lieut. 
William  C.  Winter  is  inscribed  on  our 
Soldiers'  Monument  in  Lewiston  among 
the  names  of  those  who  gave  their  lives 
in  defense  of  the  liberties  of  our  Coun- 
try. 

When  I  was  a  boy  I  often  used  to  re- 
gret that  my  lot  was  cast  in  that  quiet 
86 


J^on*  da-eotge  Bottle 


neighborhood.  I  often  compared,  with 
feelings  of  sorrow  and  considerable  envy, 
the  meagre  privileges  which  I  enjoyed, 
with  those  in  reach  of  boys  in  villages  and 
in  the  larger  centres  of  population.  But 
as  I  have  grown  older  and  have  learned 
more  of  the  practical  problems  of  life,  and, 
perhaps,  see  with  a  broader  vision,  I  do 
not  consider  it  a  handicap  or  misfortune 
that  one's  early  years  are  spent  in  a  rural 
community.  A  few  years  ago  I  read  in 
the  Boston  Herald  a  list  of  the  higher 
salaried  teachers,  those  occupying  the  most 
responsible  positions  in  the  public  schools 
of  Boston,  schools  conceded  to  be  unex- 
celled in  this  country.  Can  you  guess  how 
many  in  that  long  list  were  Boston  boys, 
or  were  educated  in  the  schools  of  Boston  ? 
Only  five  ! 

"  Where  did  they  come  from  ?  "  you  may 
ask.    A  large  portion  of  them  came  from 
small  towns  in  Maine,  New  Hampshire, 
87 


jttemorieg 


Vermont  and  Massachusetts.  Many  of 
them  could  be  traced  back  to  the  farm 
where  in  the  school  of  experience  they 
acquired  a  genius  for  labor,  where  they 
learned  the  lessons  of  industry  and  thrift ! 
of  patience,  of  self-reliance,  of  self  denial ! 
indispensable  qualifications  in  the  achieve- 
ment of  a  useful  and  successful  career. 

One  of  them  I  knew.  He  was  born  and 
reared  on  a  farm  down  in  my  own  county 
of  Androscoggin.  His  early  life  was  not 
unlike  that  of  other  farmers'  boys.  When 
he  was  old  enough  he  had  to  drive  the 
team  to  plough,  dig  potatoes,  milk  cows 
and  saw  wood.  He  had  to  perform  all  the 
wearisome  tasks  that  most  farmers'  boys 
have  to  perform.  He  went  to  the  public 
schools,  and  later  a  few  terms  to  an  acad- 
emy. But  he  never  saw  the  inside  of  a 
college.  He  could  not  afford  that.  But 
he  had  a  good  head,  a  good  mind,  a  good 
principle.  He  had  the  right  kind  of  am- 
88 


l^on,  George  Bottle 


bition  !  he  had  a  genius  for  educational 
work,  and  he  advanced  rapidly,  and  at  the 
time  of  which  I  speak  he  was  principal 
of  one  of  the  largest  Grammar  schools  of 
Boston,  with  a  large  corps  of  teachers  and 
one  thousand  pupils  under  his  charge. 
Now,  there  was  nothing  unusual  in  the 
career  of  this  farmer's  boy.  His  history 
can  be  duplicated  in  the  lives  of  thousands 
of  New  England  farmers'  sons.  You  will 
find  them  at  the  front  in  almost  every 
State,  in  every  occupation  in  life  and  first 
and  foremost  in  every  good  work.  Genius, 
no  less  surely  than  mediocrity,  finds  its 
level,  and  so  I  say  that  the  farmers'  boys 
have  no  cause  for  repining.  There  are 
greater  possibilities  in  the  future  for  them 
than  for  the  petted  sons  of  city  homes. 

My  friends,  the  Hampdens,  the  Mil- 

tons,  the  Cromwells,  are    not  all  in   the 

country  church-yard  laid.    In  every  part  of 

our  land  in  the  quiet  homes  of  the  Coun- 

89 


jttemorfeg 


try-side,  are  thousands  of  boys,  only  lack- 
ing, only  waiting  for,  the  magic  touch  of 
opportunity.  "  Let  not  ambition  mock 
their  useful  toil ;  their  homely  joys."  Op- 
portunity may  not  come  to  them  all,  but 
to  many  of  them  it  surely  will  come  if  they 
are  only  ready  to  seize  it. 

From  the  ranks  of  such  as  these  come 
the  men  who  have  fought  our  Country's 
battles,  and  have  defended  our  flag  upon 
the  seas.  They  have  been  our  bulwark  of 
defense  in  time  of  danger,  and  when  the 
storms  and  the  clouds  of  strife  have  passed 
away,  no  less  potent  than  in  war,  they  have 
constituted  the  great  conservative  forces 
of  peace  and  good  citizenship. 

From  the  ranks  of  such  as  these  have 
come  presidents,  and  governors ;  legisla- 
tors and  judges.  From  their  ranks  have 
come  the  shining  lights  of  the  pulpit  and 
the  bar.  They  have  sent  forth  authors, 
poets,  artists,  musicians,  our  leaders  in 
90 


^on*  George  Bottle 


education,  our  leaders  in  journalism,  our 
leading  business  men,  our  captains  of  in- 
dustry. They  have  contributed  the  fore- 
most men  in  every  sphere  of  human  ac- 
tivity. 

With  such  as  these,  the  future  of  our 
Country's  progress  and  our  Country's 
greatness  is  secure. 

With  such  as  these,  the  gentle  spirit  of 
our  civilization  will  move  onward,  broad- 
ening its  sphere  of  usefulness  and  extend- 
ing its  beneficent  influence  to  all  the  peo- 
ples of  the  earth. 


SOME   MEMORIES 

OF  THE  EASTERN  PART  OF  THE  TOWN 
BY  REV.  ABEL  W.  POTTLE 

MY  brother  George  in  his  address  has 
so  completely  covered  this  theme  that 
there  is  little  left  for  me  to  say.  I  was 
born  on  September  23,  1834,  —  so  that 
my  memory  goes  back  near  threescore 
years  and  ten. 

The  eastern  part  of  the  town  included 
the  school  district,  extending  from  the 
Centre  Bridge  to  Freeman  line.  In  my 
early  days  this  was  considered  the  most 
flourishing  part  of  the  town,  and  sustained 
a  school  of  fifty  to  sixty  scholars.  The 
farms  were  large  and  well  cultivated.  Land 
was  cleared  of  the  native  forests  and  new 
and  fruitful  fields  opened  up.  In  those 
days  the  barns  were  well  filled.  Large 
92 


met.  abel  &.  Bottle 

• 


herds  of  cattle  and  flocks  of  sheep  were 
raised.  A  large  surplus  of  farm  products 
such  as  wheat,  oats,  peas,  and  grass  seed, 
were  sold  in  our  nearest  market,  Hallowell, 
sixty  miles  away.  In  the  winter  the  farm- 
ers would  load  up  their  pungs,  lay  in  a 
stock  of  cooked  food,  and  make  the  jour- 
ney, sell  their  products,  make  their  pur- 
chases for  their  families  and  on  the  third 
day  reach  home.  Nearly  all  the  farmers 
in  those  days  were  well  to  do  and  reared 
large  families,  from  ten  to  fifteen  children 
in  each  home.  The  neighbors  lived  in 
harmony  and  seemed  to  enjoy  life. 

Let  me  review  the  families  of  that 
school  district,  commencing  with  my  own 
home.  My  father,  Abel  Pottle,  owned  a 
farm  of  nearly  three  hundred  acres,  with 
three  large  barns  usually  filled  to  the  ridge 
pole.  He  had  the  distinction  of  raising 
the  first  barn  in  town  without  rum.  My 
mother  gave  birth  to  fourteen  children. 
93 


Two  died  in  infancy.  Two  died  in  early 
childhood  of  scarlet  fever.  William  was 
drowned  at  16  years  of  age  in  1840.  War- 
ren died  at  19  in  1856.  Almira  married 
David  Fales  and  died  at  the  age  of  36. 
My  sister  Mary  at  the  age  of  78  is  now 
living.  My  brother  Jeremiah  lived  to  be 
over  70  years  and  died  in  Strong.  Wil- 
liam Henry  went  west,  engaged  in  the 
dry  goods  business,  and  died  two  years 
ago  at  the  age  of  60  in  Arkansas  City, 
Kansas.  My  brother  Charles  is  in  Da- 
kota and  James  Cyrus  resides  in  Fresno, 
Cal.  My  respected  father  was  one  of  the 
honored  men  of  the  town,  serving  several 
years  on  the  board  of  selectmen,  as  super- 
visor of  schools,  and  one  term  as  Repre- 
sentative in  the  State  Legislature.  He 
died  at  the  age  of  73  years. 

Over  the  way  lived  my  uncle,  William 
Ellsworth.    He  raised  a  large  family,  and 
was  a  successful,  well-to-do   farmer.    All 
94 


.  abel  #.  Bottle 


but  one  went  west,  and  only  one  is  now 
living,  the  youngest  daughter,  Mahala 
Pottle  Ellsworth,  who  married  Benjamin 
Peabody.  She  is  with  us  to-day,  having 
come  all  the  way  from  their  home  at  St. 
Charles,  Minn.  Our  next  door  neighbor 
was  Joseph  Lovejoy.  One  of  his  sons, 
Marcellus,  now  80  years  old,  resides  here 
in  town  and  is  with  us  to-day.  Then  next 
lived  George  Briggs,  who  had  three  sons, 
Eben,  Dudley,  and  George,  and  several 
daughters.  They  were  respectable  people 
and  good  neighbors. 

Going  on  from  "  Uncle  "  Briggs  we 
come  to  the  Porter  place,  the  grandsons 
of  whom,  Charles  and  Florian,  are  with 
us  to-day.  Nearly  opposite  lived  Robert 
Blake.  He  lived  in  a  brick  house,  and 
was  a  good  farmer.  He  was  well  educated 
for  those  days  and  served  several  terms  as 
supervisor  of  schools.  He  had  several 
daughters.  His  sons  were,  Rufus,  now 
95 


jttemorieg 


living  in  Farmington  at  86  years  of  age ; 
Eldbridge,  William,  Daniel,  Robert,  Lo- 
renzo and  John.  I  can  remember  when 
James  C.  Davis  came  to  town  and  pur- 
chased land  up  under  Mount  Abram. 
His  wife's  father,  Mr.  Norton,  lived  fur- 
ther up  on  the  mountain.  He  had  two 
sons.  Andrew  is  with  us  on  this  occasion. 
Tristam  lives  in  the  West.  Then  the  girls 
were  Sarah,  Olive,  Peninnah  and  Fidelia. 
Down  near  the  old  schoolhouse  lived 
William  Ellsworth,  the  brother  of  my 
grandfather.  There  were  at  this  time  so 
many  William  Ellsworths  that  they  were 
distinguished  in  this  manner  —  "  Old 
Bill,"  "  Long  Bill,"  «  Little  Bill,"  and 
"  Whistling  Bill."  Between  this  place  and 
the  school  house  lived  a  Mr.  Vining,  a 
shoemaker,  with  a  hair  lip.  Beyond  the 
school  house  we  come  to  the  new  home 
of  Isaac  Clark,  a  young  man  who  com- 
menced his  married  life  here.  He  was  the 
96 


.  9Pbei  m  Bottle 


son  of  old  "  Squirere  "  Clark  and  brother 
of  Wilson  and  Harrison  Clark.  He  sub- 
sequently sold  out  to  one  Robert  Mann, 
an  Irishman  with  two  maiden  sisters.  Here 
they  lived  and  died. 

Then  we  come  to  the  Squire  Clark  place, 
located  in  the  corner.  This  house  and 
outbuildings  in  my  day  were  kept  up  in 
good  repair,  and  to  my  boyish  eye  it  was 
a  palatial  residence.  Then  coming  on  to- 
ward the  bridge  we  come  to  the  residence 
of  Harrison  Clark.  Here  was  a  large  fam- 
ily and  a  comfortable  home.  Only  one  of 
this  family  remains,  Aphadilla,  now  resid- 
ing in  Salem  and  with  us  to-day.  One 
daughter  of  Wilson  Clark,  Dorcas,  from 
the  far  west,  is  here  present  on  this  occa- 
sion. Then  there  was  the  Lovejoy  family, 
Bartlett,  Sumner,  and  others.  I  remem- 
ber Sumner,  and  am  glad  to  meet  him 
here  to-day,  and  to  know  that  he  is  as  full 
of  music  as  ever.  Then  there  was  Frank 
97 


Wood  and  John  Collins,  I  remember,  and 
possibly  others.  They  are  not  with  us.  In 
all  that  territory  which  J  have  scanned  in 
these  remarks,  and  where  once  there  was  a 
large  flourishing  school,  there  is  not  to-day 
a  living  inhabitant.  The  school-house,  the 
yard,  the  building  are  all  gone,  and  the 
people  are  all  gone.  So  it  is :  "  Passing 
away  "  is  written  on  all  things  here  below. 
May  we  all  attain  to  that  city  which  hath 
foundations,  whose  builder  and  maker  is 
God. 


98 


NOTE  :  When  Mr.  George  E.  Dodge  gave  some 
reminiscences  of  the  Dodge  family,  he  expressed  regret 
that  the  family  had  not  had  more  mention  in  the  histories 
and  reminiscences  given  by  others.  Mr.  Dodge  was 
written  to  for  a  copy  of  his  remarks  to  be  put  into  this 
volume,  but,  not  hearing  from  him,  the  committee  has 
been  obliged  to  go  to  press  with  the  book  without  a 
transcript  of  what  he  said.  This  omission,  and  all  other 
such  omissions  of  names,  and  facts,  are  made  of  neces- 
sity, not  from  choice. 

CHAIRMAN  :  I  knew  that  if  the  Pottle 
boys  claimed  too  much  for  the  Eastern 
part  of  the  town,  we  could  match  them 
in  the  Western  part  by  such  good  men 
as  Elbridge  G.  Heath  and  George  W. 
Harris,  whom  we  have  persuaded  to  tell 
something  of  their  "  remissenses,"  as  the 
old  lady  called  them.  I  hope  they  '11 
consider  that  the  Western  part  of  the 
town  begins  where  the  Eastern  part  leaves 
off. 


99 


SOME    MEMORIES 

OF  THE  WESTERN  PART  OF  THE  TOWN 
BY  ELBRIDGE  G.  HEATH 

LADIES,  GENTLEMEN,  RESPECTED  KINSMAN 
AND  FRIENDS  :  — 

IN  looking  forward  eagerly  to  this  event, 
I  have  been  filled  with  emotions  of  joy 
and  gladness  which  I  did  not  then  try  to 
express  ;  and  now  I  find  myself  here,  des- 
titute of  words  with  which  to  voice  my 
overwhelming  joy  and  gratitude  for  the 
privilege  of  looking  into  the  faces  of  so 
many  of  my  early  associates  in  this  lovely 
valley.  Every  road  and  by-road,  every 
brook  and  hill,  with  the  grand  old  Moun- 
tain at  the  north,  are  indelibly  impressed 
on  my  youthful  memory,  and  make  there 
a  beautiful  panorama,  of  which  I  am  never 
weary.  As  I  turn  over  the  leaves  of  mem- 
100 


ory  and  view  again  the  enchanting  scenes 
of  my  childhood,  the  familiar,  grand,  old 
landmarks  of  nature,  I  am  deeply  im- 
pressed with  the  great  change  in  all  sub- 
lunary things.  There  is  change 
in  the  mode  of  coming  into 
this  place,  as  well  as  change 
in  the  people  on  whom  you 
look.  The  farms  are  all  here 
and  many  of  the  old  familiar 
buildings  :  but  where,  oh  ! 
where  are  the  familiar  forms, 
the  pleasant  smiling  faces,  and 
the  unaffected,  cheerful,  and 
ever-cordial  voices?  They  have 
gone  forward  into  the  beyond, 
and  are  now,  perhaps,  enjoying  an  old- 
home  week  with  the  great  majority  "just 
over  there"  where  neither  anxiety,  care, 
pain,  nor  sorrow,  nor  any  of  the  fleeting 
elements  of  this  ever-changing  life  will  be 
permitted  to  disturb  that  peace  and  joy 


ELBRIDGE   G.  HEATH 


101 


which  we  have  not  yet  been  able  to  attain 
or  conceive.  What  a  change  there  has  been 
in  the  Hayford  families  since  I  left  this 
town  fifty-four  years  ago  !  Then  four 
families  lived  in  a  row,  each  farm  touching 
the  other.  First  Albert  Hayford,  and  his 
three  sons  :  Isaac,  Zebedee  and  Washing- 
ton. These  four  families  contained  thirty- 
two  persons.  Now  Edwin  Hayford  alone 
remains  as  their  representative  on  those 
farms.  Mrs.  Ella  Smart,  his  sister,  is  a  so- 
journerintown.  Zebedee  Hay  ford's  family 
is  well  represented  among  the  visitors  here, 
and  if  numbers  were  to  count,  I  think  they 
would  get  the  cake.  Melvina  Columbus, 
Cleoria  and  Celestia,  with  a  great-grand- 
daughter thrown  in.  M.  C.  C.  C.  =  1300. 
Two  more  C's  should  have  been  there, 
Celinda  and  Clarion.  The  next  row  of 
farms  was  occupied  by  Capt.  F.  Richards, 
D.  Graffam,  O.  GrafFam,  Z.  Austin,  Tay- 
lor, Leadbetter,  Barker,  and  Bangs.  These 
102 


Clbrtoge  d& 


names  bring  to  my  mind  many  events  of 
youthful  joy  and  happiness  when  we  were 
all  here  together.  And  now,  what  can  I 
say  concerning  the  Phillips  Road  ?  Many 
of  the  houses  are  gone,  including  the  little 
red  school-house,  where  forty  of  us  schol- 
ars gathered  for  study  in  the  winter  of 
1846-7.  Now  every  house  is  vacant  till 
you  come  to  the  Meadow  Farm  ;  not  a 
family  or  a  scholar  in  the  District  !  I  can 
only  say,  "  Behold  what  havoc  the  scythe 
of  Time  has  made  "  in  this  little  corner  of 
the  world. 

Mr.  Chairman,  I  thank  you  for  this 
courtesy,  and  ask  you  to  accept  my  in- 
expressible gratitude  for  your  unyielding 
determination  to  have  this  Reunion  and 
the  very  able  manner  in  which  you  have 
brought  this  very  pleasant  and  enjoyable 
event  to  such  a  happy  issue. 


103 


SOME   MEMORIES 

OF  THE  WESTERN  PART  OF  THE  TOWN 
BY  GEORGE  W.  HARRIS 

LADIES  AND  GENTLEMEN:  —  It  seems 
a  little  strange  to  me,  and  out  of  place 
to  be  called  upon  for  remarks  upon  this 
occasion,  after  hearing  such  able  and  elo- 
quent speakers  as  Rev.  Abel  Pottle,  Geo. 
Pottle,  E.  G.  Heath,  and  numerous 
others. 

The  speaker  that  preceded  me,  El- 
bridge  G.  Heath,  has  already  recalled  the 
old  residents  of  the  Western  part  of  the 
town.  But,  Ladies  and  Gentlemen,  I  wish 
to  say  to  you  all  to-day  that  I  am  proud 
that  I  was  born  in  Salem,  a  small  town 
in  Maine ;  and  I  was  about  to  say,  the 
smallest  and  one  of  the  most  beautiful 
towns  situated  in  this  valley,  with  old 
104 


(George 


Mount  Abram  for  a  background,  tower- 
ing its  lofty  peak  heavenward.  What  a 
picture  !  No  artist  ever  has,  or  ever  can 
paint  so  grand  and  so  beautiful  a  picture. 
The  question  has  arisen  in  my  mind  why 
and  for  what  purpose  we  are 
assembled  here  to-day.  It 
seems  to  me  that  we  are  here, 
not  only  to  look  into  one 
another's  faces,  and  shake  the 
friendly  hand,  and  greet  those 
that  have  long  been  absent 
from  us ;  but,  my  friends,  we 
are  here  to  recall  to  our  memo- 
ries scenes  of  our  past,  and 
bring  fresh  to  our  minds  the 
fathers,  mothers,  sisters,  bro- 
thers and  more  distant  relatives  that  once 
lived  here  in  Salem.  Of  these,  some  are 
here  to-day  and  within  the  sound  of  my 
voice  while  a  much  larger  number  have 
long  since  gone  to  their  Reward.  Although 
105 


GEORGE    W.    HARRIS 


the  houses  they  used  to  occupy  have 
crumbled  to  dust  and  their  tombstones 
are  covered  with  moss,  their  memories, 
their  influence,  and  their  examples  are  still 
fresh  in  my  mind,  and,  I  trust,  in  the  minds 
of  many  of  you  who  are  seated  here  be- 
neath these  beautiful  trees. 

Salem  may  seem  small  in  comparison 
with  other  towns.  But  looking  over  the 
records  and  seeing  the  names  of  men 
born  and  bred  in  this  place  who  have 
gone  from  their  early  homes  and  are  now 
holding  the  most  responsible  positions 
in  towns,  in  counties,  and  in  States,  as 
preachers  of  the  Gospel,  publishers  of 
books,  mayors  of  cities,  State  Assessors, 
and  school  teachers,  —  we  must  consider 
Salem  of  considerable  importance.  We  are 
blessed  with  two  Churches  which  are  well 
attended  every  Sabbath ;  and  as  to  educa- 
tional privileges,  we  have  thirty-six  weeks 
of  school  in  the  year.  But  unless  a  person 
1 06 


dSeot$e 


has  some  brain  power  and  a  natural  in- 
stinct for  his  or  her  chosen  occupation  all 
the  book  knowledge  and  all  the  College 
Education  will  count  for  but  little. 

Look  over  our  Governors  of  States  and 
Presidents  of  the  United  States.  Nine 
tenths  of  them  are  men  of  limited  edu- 
cation, but  men  of  brain  force  and  will 
power  enough  to  carry  the  whole  ma- 
chinery of  State  upon  their  shoulders  and 
leave  a  lasting  impression  for  good. 

A  word  as  to  the  young  people  of  Salem, 
just  coming  upon  the  stage  of  action.  They 
will  soon  be  called  upon  to  guide  the  ship 
which  carries  as  cargo  all  the  affairs  of  this 
life,  and  we  feel  safe  and  well  assured  that 
they  cannot  be  excelled,  or  even  duplicated, 
in  point  of  morality,  or  of  character,  or  in 
the  surrounding  influences  stretched  out 
before  them.  In  closing  let  me  say  that 
it  gives  me  great  pleasure  to  meet  this  large 
and  intelligent  assembly  on  Salem's  Old 
107 


jttemorieg 


Home  Day,  and  to  shake  the  friendly  hand 
of  kindred,  friends,  acquaintances,  and 
neighbors  of  former  years,  long  since  rolled 
into  eternity.  My  desire  is  that  we  may 
continue  to  celebrate  Old  Home  Week  in 
Salem.  It  is  possible,  though  not  at  all  sure, 
that  the  same  persons  that  are  gathered 
here  to-day,  will  all  meet  on  a  like  occa- 
sion for  the  same  purpose  in  future  years. 
But  my  desire  and  my  prayer  to  that  all- 
wise  Being  who  is  the  Creator,  Guider,  and 
Ruler  of  this  Universe  is  that  we  who  are 
here  assembled  with  the  broad  canopy  of 
heaven  over  us  for  our  shelter  may  so  live 
and  order  our  lives  that,  although  we  may 
not  be  permitted  to  meet  again  here  in 
this  life,  when  all  these  earthly  scenes  are 
closed  to  our  view  and  all  our  work  on 
earth  is  done,  we  may  be  assured  of  meet- 
ing as  one  unbroken  family  in  the  Haven 
of  Eternal  Rest. 


108 


MRS.   UNDERWOOD'S 
REMINISCENCES 

I  AM  requested  to  review  upon  this  oc- 
casion my  experiences  as  a  teacher,  in  this 
town,  from  time  to  time,  during  the  youth 
of  many  of  you  whom  I  am 
pleased  to  count  among  my 
most  valued  friends. 

Beyond  a  few  facts  and  in- 
cidents which  may  be  of  some 
interest  as  we  compare  the 
past  with  the  present,  I  do  not 
recall  any  occurrences  worthy 
of  especial  mention,  or  other 
than  those  that  come  into  the 
ordinary  experiences  of  the 
country  school  teacher.  I  was 
happily  surprised  upon  receiving  an  appli- 
cation to  teach  the  school  in  the  east  dis- 
trict of  this  town.  Though  I  was  very 
109 


C.    F.  UNDERWOOD 


anxious  to  accept,  my  friends  did  not  ap- 
prove of  my  leaving  home  at  so  early  an 
age,  and  feared  that  lack  of  mature  judg- 
ment would  result  in  failure.  I  prevailed, 
however,  with  my  arguments  and  promises 
to  do  my  best,  not  only  for  my  own  sake 
but  for  the  interest  of  those  under  my 
charge. 

It  was  on  a  lovely  June  morning  when 
I  said  a  reluctant  good-bye  to  dear  friends 
in  my  pleasant  home,  and  with  a  pretense 
at  bravery,  started  for  my  destination, 
more  than  forty  miles  distant,  to  "  teach 
my  first  school."  The  journey  in  the  old- 
fashioned  stage  coach  was  delightful.  The 
air  was  clear  and  the  hills  and  the  mountain 
peaks  were  visible  in  every  direction.  All 
was  like  a  revelation  to  me.  Farmington 
was  very  lovely,  with  its  pleasant  homes 
and  branching  trees.  The  little  village  of 
Strong  was  also  beautiful.  The  wire  bridge 
was  to  me  a  wonder,  and  of  unusual  in- 
1 10 


terest.  My  day'sjourney  ended,  I  tarried 
over  night  at  an  old  time  tavern  which 
I  but  vaguely  remember.  In  the  early 
morning  I  was  informed  that  Mr.  Eben 
Briggs  of  Salem  was  there  to  meet  me. 
At  that  time  there  was  a  public  convey- 
ance to  Salem  but  once  a  week,  at  which 
time  the  mail  was  received  and  distributed 
by  Postmaster  Patterson.  The  drive  up 
through  the  valley  road  was  novel  and, 
though  monotonous,  very  interesting  to 
me.  The  first  sight  of  Salem  and  grand 
old  Mt.  Abram  I  can  never  forget !  I  was 
taken  to  the  home  'of  Mr.  Blake  in  the 
eastern  part  of  the  town  for  my  school 
examination.  Mr.  Blake  gave  me  my  cer- 
tificate after  an  old  time,  rigid  examination, 
which  would  be  somewhat  amusing  to  the 
applicant  of  to-day.  Mr.  Blake  was  of 
the  "  old  school,"  was  counted  a  thorough 
scholar  and  had  been  a  favorably  known 
school  teacher  in  his  day.  Mrs.  Blake 
in 


had  also,  in  her  younger  years,  been  a 
teacher  of  successful  experience.  In  her 
native  town  (  Georgetown,  Maine ),  she 
taught  eleven  successive  years,  alternately 
in  two  adjacent  districts.  This  was  not 
uncommon  with  successful  teachers  at  that 
period  of  time.  Today  teachers  of  our 
rural  schools  very  rarely  are  acceptable, 
or  give  general  satisfaction  beyond  the 
second  term  !  The  clamor  for  change  in 
this  respect  comes  of  mistaken  judgment 
and  often  means  injury  to  the  school,  from 
unsteady  and  unmethodical  training. 

But  to  return  to  my  examination.  Mr. 
Blake  produced,  for  text  books,  Pike's 
Arithmetic,  Fisk's  Grammar,  an  old  time 
Reader,  and  Pope's  Essay  on  Man.  These 
works  were  not  familiar  to  me.  I  feared 
and  trembled  lest  I  should  be  humiliated 
by  a  refusal  of  the  necessary  document. 
But  like  all  transitory  things,  that  ordeal 
came  to  an  end  and,  whether  or  not  deserv- 
112 


Eeminigcenceg 


ing,  I  received,  and  have  carefully  preserved 
to  this  day,  the  certificate  signed  John  C. 
Heath  —  Robert  Blake.  These  gentlemen 
were  also  "  The  Visiting  Committee." 
The  name  of  the  third  member  of  the 
Board  I  do  not  now  recall.  I  remember 
both  visitors  as  pleasant  men  who  accept- 
ably performed  their  duties. 

I  had  enrolled  about  twenty  pupils, 
which,  in  those  years,  was  considered  a 
small  school.  One  half  that  number  now  is 
thought  to  be  a  good  aVerage.  My  wages 
were  one  dollar  per  week  —  and,  after  the 
fashion  of  that  day,  I  was  expected  to 
"  board  round  "  ;  although  it  was  decided 
later  that  a  steady  boarding  place  should  be 
provided  for  me.  One  dollar  per  week,  for 
board,  was  considered  high  and  sometimes 
it  went  to  the  lowest  bidder  at  seventy-five 
cents,  and  even  as  low  as  fifty  cents.  So 
eager  was  I  at  that  time  to  assume  the  airs 
of  a  "  school  mistress  "  that  I  think  I  would 


have  accepted  a  position  without  wages,  al- 
though I  was  very  proud  of  my  first  earnings. 
The  families  represented  in  the  school 
were  Davis,  Ellsworth,  Briggs,  Pottle, 
Brackley,  Clark,  Lovejoy  and  Record. 
The  pupils  were  easily  governed  and  in 
all  ways  very  respectful  and  kind,  reflect- 
ing great  credit  upon  the  home  discipline 
as  well  as  upon  the  former  teachers  of 
the  school.  Notably  among  the  number 
was  a  small  boy,  now  so  widely  and  favor- 
ably known,  the  Hon.  George  Pottle  of 
Lewiston.  If  I  mistake  not,  he  learned  his 
multiplication  table  during  that  term  of 
school.  Doubtless  he  has  had  occasion  in 
his  years  of  computations  to  put  into 
practice  many  times  this  important  branch 
of  mathematics,  while  so  faithfully  per- 
forming his  high  official  duties.  My  plea- 
sant anticipations  were  realized.  I  highly 
enjoyed  my  school,  and  the  kind  hospi- 
tality of  its  patrons. 

114 


Eemintecenceg 


The  district  at  that  time  boasted  of  one 
of  the  most  aged  persons  in  the  State, 
Mrs.  Jordan,  the  mother  of  Mrs.  Packard. 
She  attained  the  great  age  of  one  hundred 
and  one  years  and  some  months.  My  brief 
interview  with  her  left  a  deep  impression 
upon  me.  Her  death  occurred  soon  after. 
I  need  not  remind  you  that  here,  also,  was 
the  home  of  Rev.  A.  W.  Pottle.  The  in- 
fluence of  his  faithful  stewardship,  so  long 
and  so  widely  known,  needs  no  comment. 
T'be  ideal  shepherd  loved  and  revered  by 
his  flocks,  the  reward  of  a  "  Well  done  " 
awaits  him.  I  have  lost  trace  of  all  but  a 
few  in  that  district  who  were  at  that  time 
my  pupils.  I  doubt  not  that  success  fol- 
lowed them  in  their  various  vocations, 
for  this  was  the  promise  of  their  early 
years. 

Subsequently  I  taught  several  terms  at 
Salem  Mills.  Here  again  I  formed  asso- 
ciations whose  pleasant  memories  I  have 


enjoyed  through  all  these  years  of  separa- 
tion. During  one  of  these  terms,  this 
school  numbered  nearly,  or  quite,  fifty 
pupils.  Twenty-five  were  considered  a 
small  number,  for  that  school.  I  would 
gladly  mention  in  detail  some  of  the  plea- 
sant and  interesting  incidents  connected 
with  my  experience  in  this  district ;  but  I 
would  not  weary  you,  and  will  but  briefly 
allude  to  a  few  points.  During  all  my  ex- 
perience in  similar  schools,  I  have  looked 
back  upon  this  as  one  of  high  intelligence 
and  the  most  remarkable  for  its  fine  classes, 
especially  in  elocution  and  language.  There 
were  those,  also,  who  excelled  in  other 
branches.  I  was  particularly  proud  of  that 
first  class  in  Reading,  composed  principally 
of  girls,  or  young  ladies,  as  in  attainment 
and  deportment  they  were,  indeed,  young 
ladies.  They  were  also  equally  as  profi- 
cient in  analysis.  The  line  as  they  stood, 
or  were  seated,  reached  the  entire  length 
116 


Hctmntecenceg 


of  the  school  room  on  the  north  side.  Few 
of  our  higher  institutions  of  learning  can 
boast  to-day  of  finer  readers  or  gramma- 
rians, and,  I  may  add,  spellers,  than  were 
found  at  that  time  in  school  district  No.  i 
of  Salem.  Each  name  is  worthy  of  honor- 
able mention,  but  time  forbids  my  being 
personal.  Captain  Patterson  and  Freedom 
Richards  were  the  Agents  by  whom  I  was 
employed.  I  hold  a  certificate, signed,  Abel 
Pottle,  Supervisor.  Mr.  Pottle  was  efficient 
and  conscientious  in  his  work.  Some  of 
these  school  terms  closed  with  entertain- 
ments, consisting  of  readings,  dialogues, 
recitations,  etc. 

I  beg  leave  to  mention  a  native  of  this 
district,  the  late  lamented  Rev.  Albert  H. 
Heath.  High  tribute  should  be  rendered 
to  one,  by  nature,  so  gifted,  and  who  was 
regarded  as  one  of  the  first  pulpit  orators 
in  New  England.  Others,  who  honor  this 
gathering  by  their  presence,  born  within 
117 


the  shadow  of  this  old,  majestic  mountain, 
have  made  the  world  the  better  for  their 
having  lived  in  it. 

Among  those  of  the  home-comers  who 
deserve  special  mention  (and  indeed  all 
deserve  that,  if  time  allowed  the  mention 
of  each  honored  one)  is  he,  whose  parental 
home  on  the  mountain  side,  was  known 
far  and  near  for  its  genial  hospitality.  The 
"  latch  string  "  was  always  "  out ."  There 
were  meals  at  all  hours,  for  guests  bidden 
or  unbidden.  A  light  was  there  always  in 
the  window  to  guide  the  wanderer  on  his 
way  through  the  darkness  of  night.  He 
learned  the  pursuits  of  model  and  system- 
atic farming  from  his  father,  and,  since 
his  removal  to  a  new-made  home,  his  name 
and  fame,  have  reached  afar  as  an  honored 
leader  of  progressive  agriculture.  His  was 
the  farmer-boy's  heritage  —  push  and  per- 
severance. If  you  would  know  of  the  pro- 
ducts of  his  fair,  broad  acres,  and  the 
118 


secrets  of  his  success,  I  refer  you  to  an 
article  in  a  late  issue  of  the  Lewiston 
Journal.  You  will  readily  recognize  the 
central  figure,  your  old  time  friend,  Co- 
lumbus Hayford. 

In  yonder  pleasant  cottage,  typical  of 
the  New  England  country  home,  was  born 
one,  to  whom  we  are  to-day  largely  in- 
debted, for  the  pleasures  of  this  reunion 
of  old  citizens  and  friends.  One,  whose 
name  in  business  thoroughfares,  and  in 
educational  circles,  is  known  on  two  con- 
tinents. His  innate  love  for  the  dear  old 
town  of  his  nativity  prompted  the  thought 
and  suggestion  of  an  Old  Home  Day  in 
Salem.  The  sentiment  expressed  by  an- 
other—  "This  is  my  own,  my  native 
land  "  —  has  never  been  crushed  out,  not- 
withstanding the  contrasts  of  his  life.  We 
should  like  personally  to  thank  D.  C. 
Heath  for  making  so  many  hearts  happy 
here  to-day.  It  has  been  no  small  task ; 
119 


but  it  has  been  for  him  a  labor  of  love,  the 
consciousness  of  which  and  the  memories 
of  this  happy  day  let  us  hope  may*  be  his 
rich  rewards.  To  the  citizens  whose  united 
and  untiring  efforts  have  aided  in  the  suc- 
cess of  the  occasion,  many  and  grateful 
thanks  are  due. 

Years  after  my  first  school  in  East  Salem, 
I  taught  another  term  there.  Again,  I 
found  a  bright,  up  to  date  class  of  schol- 
ars. The  close  application,  and  the  deep 
interest  manifested  in  their  work  by  the 
pupils  was  something  remarkable,  and 
made  the  task  of  the  teacher  easy  and 
pleasant.  I  followed  these  young  people 
with  interest  for  a  long  time,  and  am  cer- 
tain that  they  have  filled  well  their  places 
in  life.  I  cannot  refrain  from  speaking 
of  a  message,  that  has  recently  reached 
me,  in  reference  to  one  of  that  number, 
Melvin  Lovejoy,  a  resident  now  of  a  dis- 
tant state  who  has  risen  to  distinction  as 
1 20 


Eemtnigcenceg 


a  lawyer  and  who  has  had  many  honors 
conferred  upon  him.  The  years  that  had 
intervened  since  my  first  school  had 
wrought  entire  changes  in  the  neighbor- 
hood. Only  one  old  home,  that  of  Mr. 
Bartlett  Lovejoy,  was  occupied  by  an  ori- 
ginal family.  It  was  also  my  good  fortune  to 
teach  a  term  of  school  in  West  Freeman, 
where,  in  a  highly  intelligent  community, 
and  in  a  school  of  well-disciplined  and 
bright  pupils  I  formed  friendships  that 
have  strengthened  with  the  passing  years. 
I  hold  no  associations  dearer  than  those 
connected  with  my  sojourn,  at  intervals, 
as  a  teacher  in  the  districts  to  which  I  have 
referred.  —  Thanks  for  this  Old  Home 
Reunion  !  It  has  awakened  sweet  mem- 
ories, and  will  serve  to  keep  in  fond  re- 
membrance the  friends  and  friendships 
cherished  in  days  "  lang  syne."  Let  our 
petition  be,  that  this  circle  as  one  fam- 
ily, remain  unbroken,  when,  at  that  Great 
121 


Beminigcenceg 


Home  Reunion  God's  children  shall  finally 
be  gathered. 

The  Eternal  clock  has  struck  a  century's 
half!  We  know  the  contents  of  this  life 
chapter.  What  will  the  next  reveal  ?  —  To 
human  sight  the  book  is  closed — its  pages 
blank. 

NOTE  :  Mrs.  Underwood's  reference  to  Rev.  Albert 
Hayford  Heath,  D.  D.,  reminds  us  to  say  that,  had 
we  given  two  or  three  days  to  this  reunion,  prominent 
mention  would  have  been  made  of  as  many  more  of 
the  worthy  sons  and  daughters  who  were  proud  to 
claim  Salem  as  their  birthplace.  We  may  appropriately 
give  here  the  following  beautiful  poem  by  Dr.  Heath, 
written  a  few  months  before  his  death. 


122 


A  DREAM 

BY  REV.  ALBERT  HAYFORD  HEATH,  D.  D. 

I  WANDERED  abroad  one  fine  morning  in  June  ; 
The  earth  was  abloom,  and  the  sky  all  atune 
With  bird  songs,  and  dust  of  gold  hung  in  the  air 
And  sifted  on  hill  and  dale,  radiant,  and  fair. 

A  bright  spirit  met  me  with  deep,  soulful  eyes, 
Like  patches  of  tend' rest  blue,  out  of  the  skies; 
Her  robe  was  a  wind-woven  web,  and  the  ring 
Of  her  voice  was  like  music  of  softly  touched  string. 

"  Thy  world  is  most  fair,"  she  said,  "  Sunshine  and 

flowers 

And  music's  sweet  thrills  fill  the  joy-laden  hours;  " 
"  Oh  yes,"  I  replied,  "but  one  shadow  remains  — 
A  tyrant  called  Death  all  this  wide  beauty  claims!  " 

"  Fly,  Spirit,"  I  cried,  "  lest  he  find  you,  O  fly! 
In  the  frost  of  his  breath  e'en  your  beauty  will  die  !  " 
With  a  voice  like  a   lute,  swept  with  evening's  sweet 

breath, 

She,  vanishing,  answered  me,  "  My  name  is  Death!  " 
123 


The  poem  by  Rev.  Albert  Heath  was  pub- 
lished in  the  "  Lewiston  (Maine)  Journal  " 
with  the  following  notice : 

"  Pr.  Heath  was  born  in  Salem,  Maine, 
and  died  at  .St.  Johnsbury,  Vermont,  in 
1899.  He  married,  January  7,  1 868,  Lucy 
Jane  Simonds  of  Charlestown,  Mass. 
They  had  two  children,  Albert  C.,  a  prac- 
ticing physician  in  St.  Paul,  Minn.,  and 
Miss  Lucy  F.  Heath,  a  member  of  the 
senior  class  at  Smith  College.  He  also 
left  a  sister,  Mrs.  Horatio  G.  Turner  of 
Dedham,  Mass.,  and  two  brothers,  El- 
bridge  G.  Heath  of  Auburn,  Maine,  and 
George  Heath  of  Rangeley,  Maine." 

As  being  of  interest  to  all  we  quote  the 
following  from  the  same  Journal :  — 

"  During  a  residence  of  less  than  five 
years  in  this  town,  Dr.  Heath  made  his 
influence  felt  as  few  men  have  ever  done 
in  so  short  a  time.  Possessed  of  a  force- 
ful and  eloquent  style,  sparkling  with  gen- 
124 


a, 


uine  humor,  he  was  in  great  demand  upon 
all  public  occasions  and  gave  generously 
of  his  time  and  strength.  Many  will  recall 
some  of  his  public  appearances  and  the  up- 
lift which  they  received  from  his  stirring 
words.  His  interest  in  education  was  not 
confined  to  Tabor  Academy,  and,  besides 
being  a  valued  Trustee  of  St.  Johnsbury 
Academy,  he  took  a  deep  interest  in  the 
public  schools.  Just  before  he  died,  he 
told  the  writer  that  he  should  give  all  his 
spare  time  to  the  establishment  of  Bright- 
look  Hospital,  which  he  had  been  instru- 
mental in  starting  and  of  which  he  had 
been  elected  President.  He  had  outlined 
great  plans  for  its  usefulness." 


125 


CHAIRMAN  :  Many  from  whom  we  have 
heard  have  expressed  regret  that  they 
cannot  be  with  us  today,  for  they  wanted 
to  see  again  their  former  teacher,  Carrie 
Nash.  She  must  have  made  an  unusually 
good  impression  on  her  pupils  —  not  ex- 
actly the  kind  of  impression  that  some  of 
us  boys  had  left  on  us  by  our  teachers,  but 
the  kind  made  on  the  boys  who,  when  asked 
what  their  teacher  taught  them  aboutpolite- 
ness,  replied  :  "  She  just  walks  around  and 
we  all  feel  polite."  To  our  request  that  she 
write  a  poem  and  some  reminiscences  for 
this  occasion  she  very  reluctantly  said 
"Yes,"  and  I  present  her  now  as  Carrie 
Nash,  the  poet.  Her  reminiscences  have 
already  been  read  by  her  husband,  Mr. 
George  Underwood,  from  whom  we  shall 
have  also  a  few  remarks  in  his  own  behalf. 


126 


SALEM'S  OLD  HOME  DAY 

BY  MRS.  CARRIE  NASH  UNDERWOOD 

DID  sun  of  Heaven  e'er  shine  on  scene  like  this; 
Where  blend  true  loving  friendships,  joy  and  peace, 
Where  hearts,  as  one,  raise  simultaneous  songs 
In  praise  to  Him,  to  whom  all  praise  belongs  ? 
To  Him,  who  gave  to  us  this  glorious  day 
That  wears  midsummer's  charms  in  bright  array; 
Green  fields,  the  waving  grain,  and  fruitage  choice, 
Conspire  to  make  this  August  day  rejoice  ! 
All  nature  smiles,  and  at  her  kind  behest, 
We  leave  our  cares,  and  with  her,  take  our  rest; 
List  t'  her  voices  that  to  higher  strains  attune, 
Gaze   'pon   her   beauties,  and   with  her   God,  com- 
mune, 

O,  wondrous  world !  tbou  all  divinely  planned, 
I  recognize  in  tbee  the  master  hand !  — 
While  blessings  spread  o'er  all  the  earth  so  wide, 
All  unsurpassed  are  those,  where  you  and  I  abide! 
Tho'  north,  or  south,  or  east,  or  west, 
Where1  er  our  home,  we  love  it  best! 

127 


If  where  perpetual  snows,  crown  mountains  bold  and 

high, 

Where  at  their  rocky  feet,  th'  dark  deep  caverns  lie; 
Or,  if,  where  tropic  suns  shine  on  perpetual  bloom, 
Where  peach  and  orange  groves  send  forth  their  rich  per- 
fume, 

Where'er  the  heart,  where'er  affection's  ties: 
There,  there,  the  home  love  dwells,  that  never  dies ! 
O,  hearts  will  yearn,  for  childhood's  native  home 
Where  halcyon  days,  but  only  once,  can  come,  — 
Where  brightest  promise  knew  no  frosts  that  chilled, 
Where  souls  with  guileless  child  lore  first  were  filled, 
That  dear  old  home!  we  love  it  still,  if  palace  or  if  cot, 
Where'er  in  all  the  world  so  wide  —  if  home  it  matters 

not, 

Still  happy  home,  where  loved  ones  yet  abide, 
Where  father,  mother,  still  walk  side  by  side! 
Tho'  furrows  deep  have  marked  the  brow  once  fair 
And  Age  has  set  his  crown  of  silvery  hair, 
And  forms  are  bowed,  with  weight  of  many  years, 
And  eyes  are  dimmed  with  grief  and  sorrow's  tears; 
Yet,  deep  within,  Affection's  fires  still  burn, 
And  welcoming,  await  the  wand'rer's  return: 
Return  to  all,  in  childhood,  that  he  loved, 
To  hills  and  fields,  so  long  his  child  feet  roved, 

128 


c.  JS* 


To  lake  and  tiny  stream,  and  babbling  brook, 
Where  first  he  sailed  his  boat,  and  dropped  his  first  pin 
hook. 

This  day  we  are  gathered,  'neath  these  trees  that  once 

sheltered 

The  fathers,  the  kindred,  long  since  gone  to  their  rest  — 
Where  prayers  and  sweet  praises  of  loved  ones  ascended 
That  were  heard  by  the  throngs  of  th'  sainted  and  blest; 

Near  by  the  old  churchyard,  where  'pon  marble  are  gra- 
ven 

The  names  of  the  loved,  no  more  here  to  greet, 
Near  the  evergreen  trees,  that  scatter  their  sweetness 
O'er  hills,  and  o'er  waters  that  lie  at  their  feet  ; 

Near  "  Patterson  hill,"  that  inspires  with  its  grandeur, 
That  o'erlooks  the  deep  valley  —  Salem's  fair  view  — 
Where  nature  is  spread  with  woodland  and  meadow, 
And  the  bright  sparkling  '«  Quick  Stream's  "  serpentine 
flow, 

Whose  waters  are  rife  with  the  shy  speckled  beauties, 
The  sportsman's  true  "  Paradise,"  that  invites  and  al- 
lures ! 

129 


O,  where  has  kind  nature  bestowed  'pon  her  children 
Landscape  more  lovely,  or  enchanting,  than  yours! 

'Loved  scenes  of  your  childhood  —  who  would  forget 
them  ? 

The  sweet  homes,  the  playgrounds,  'mid  these  moun- 
tains and  hills, 

E'en  the  rocks,  by  the  roadside,  awake  inspiration, 

The  bridges,  the  mill  ponds,  and  the  busy  old  mills! 

Dear  old  Mt.  Abram,  thou  chiefest  of  landmarks! 
Grand  monarch,  that  nature  so  richly  has  crowned! 
Like  a  sentinel  faithful  through  th'  centuries,  guarding 
The  safety  and  peace  of  the  vales  far  around ! 

Old  mountain,  my  memory  is  fresh  as  the  verdure 
That  clothes  thy  grand  form,  so  symmetrical,  true, 
Fresh  as  thine  evergreen  vines,  that  still  clamber 
Round  boulders  and  ledges,  that  in  youth  time,  I  knew ! 

Yea,  well  I  recall  that  bright  sunny  morning, 
When  th'  earth  was  aflame  with  Autumn's  array: 
That  we  climbed  thy  rough  steeps,  with  feet  all  unwearied, 
Ah,  we  were  "  young  folks  "  then,  —  but  not  "  come 
to  stay!  " 

130 


Jftm  C  $* 


Dear  mountain,  that  stand's!  so  strong  and  defiant, 
When  th'  wild  raging  tempest  would  shake  thy  bold 

sides, 

Thou  'rt  a  model  of  friendship,  th'  true  and  th'  loyal  — 
Unmoved  by  life's  changes,  —  that  ever  abides! 

Yea!  picturesque  lovely,  the  never  forgotten, 

When   once    eyes    have    feasted   on    thy  beauties    so 

rare, 

Where  ferns  and  wild  mosses  carpet  thy  woodlands, 
That  are  mirrored  in   waters  'neath  skies  bright  and 

fair! 

Dare  we  ask,  where  are  they,  th'  friends  and  compan- 

ions 

Who  ascended  the  mountain,  that  bright  Autumn  day  : 
Some  to  the  tomb,  and  some  to  the  bridal, 
Scattered  and  fled,  from  old  homes,  far  away  ! 

* 
Some  sleep  'neath  the  turf,  where  they  fell  in  the  bat- 

tle 

While  nobly  responding  their  loved  country's  call. 
When  war  clouds   o'ershadowed  and  threatened  the 

nation, 
They  left  home  and  kindred,  yea,  sacrificed  all! 


Is  there  one  here  to-day,  who  fought  for  "  Old 
Glory  "  — 

Who  survived  the  dark  conflict  of  th'  "  Blue  and  the 
Gray"? 

Children' s  children  shall  bless  you,  High  Heaven  re- 
ward you 

For  defending  our  freedom,  in  the  nation's  dark  day! 

On  this  day  as  we  gather,  we  meet  on  the  "  level," 
"  Old  Home"  is  our  theme  —  the  dear  native  home, 
We  gaze  'pon  faces,  in  life's  youth  so  familiar, 
We  grasp  each  by  the  hand,  as  hither  we  come! 

Yes,  herein  this  place,  'mid  these  pleasant  surroundings, 
Heart  beats  to  heart,  as  we  talk  of  the  years 
When  all  was  like  sunshine,  ere  life  was  o'ertaken, 
With  its  burden  of  cares,  with  its  sorrows  and  tears. 

As  we  talk  of  the  freedom  enjoyed  in  our  youth  time, 
Of  th'  moonlight-rides  —  with  their  jingling  bells, 
Of  the  crisp  healthful  frosts,  of  th'  songs  of  the  coasters, 
Of  the  search  for  the  May  flower,  o'er  hills  and  in  dells. 

Of  th'  good  old  schools,  and  when  'twas  the  fashion 
For  the  children  to  learn  their  A.  B.  C.'s; 

132 


jftm  C  J6*  an&ertoooti 


When  the  friend  of  all  friends,  the  dear  old  "  Master," 
Ne'er  yet  found  a  moment  for  comfort  and  ease! 

For  when  came  a  lull,  then,  he,  with  his  pen  knife, 
Must  repair  and  refashion  the  old  quill  pen  — 
And  the  "sums,"  from  Addition  to  Double  Position, 
He  must  solve  and  explain,  again  and  again. 

As  we  talk  of  the  singing  schools,  cold  but  bright  even- 

ings 

That  brought  out  a  bevy  of  old  folks  and  young, 
When  the  "  scale"  was  long  practiced,  the  rising  and 

falling, 
And  the  notes,  do,  re,  mi,  of  the  old  songs  were  sung. 

As  when  we  revert  to  the  old  time  huskings, 

To  those  late  Autumn  evenings  with  their  star-lighted 

skies, 

To  the  rich  midnight  suppers,  from  the  old  brick  oven, 
The  beans  and  the  brown  bread,  Indian  puddings  and 

pies  ! 

Of  the  old  fashioned  games,  like  "  chasing  the  squirrel," 
Of  the  "button  "  dropped  slyly  in  some  favored  one's 
hand, 


Of  the  fun  and  the  frolic  when  the  pawns  were  inflicted 
So  bashfully  paid  at  the  "judge's"  command! 

And  then  of  the  quilting  bee,  and  th'  afternoon  circle 
With  husbands  and  sweethearts  invited  to  tea, 
When  for  sweet  charity's  sake  swift  fingers  and  needles 
Flew  fast  as  the  hours,  all  so  pleasant  and  free. 

As  in  mind,  we  recall  the  grand  old  Muster 
When  the  uniformed  troops  march  in  shining  array 
To  the  fife  and  the  drum  beat,  that  music  inspiring, 
Alas,  few  are  the  numbers,  who  remember  that  day! 

That  day  of  all  days,  when  in  anticipation 
The  boys  worked  with  zeal,  with  heart  and  with  hand 
For  the  promised  reward,  to  expend,  for  some  fair  one, 
Much  as  a  shining  sixpence  at  th'  gingerbread  stand  ! 

"  O,  good  old  times  are  best,"  we  're  wont  to  say. 
And  to  them  tribute  we  would  justly  pay, 
And  to  our  native  home,   whose  scenes,  so  fair, 
We  'd  not  exchange  for  rarer  ones  elsewhere! 

To  dear  old  Maine,  that  proudly  leads  the  van! 
Where  is  her  peer  ?  O,  tell  me,  ye  who  can, 


Search  well,  outside  the  shores  of  Ocean,  deep  and  wide, 
And  Maine,  our  own  dear  Maine,  is  still  the  country's 
pride ! 

The  nation  heeds  her  ringing  voice,  in  legislative  halls, 
She  scatters  blessings  o'er  th'  land,  and  lists  to  mercy's 

calls. 

She  sends  in  Freedom's  cause  the  loyal,  brave,  and  true, 
She  hoists  her  colors,  e'er  aloft,  the  red,  and  white,  and 

blue. 

She  e'er  dispenses  charity  with  open  lavish  hand, 
Unto  the  mission  fields,  abroad  —  the  dark  benighted 

land; 
She's  ne'er  behind  her  sister  states  —  in  goodly  works 

excels.  — 
What  to  the  great  wide  world  she's  been,  an  honored 

record  tells! 

Her  staunch,  proud  timbers  cut  through  every  sea, 
The  nation's  pride,  her  guardians  true  and  free! 
The  church,  the  school,  twin  blessings  point  the  way 
To  life,  and  light,  for  ignorance  holds  no  sway! 
And  lo,  the  yeoman  takes  his  bold  firm  stand, 
His  claims  asserts:  —  be  's  King  of  all  the  land ! 

135 


'g  €>ID  i^ome 


And  best  of  all:  true,  loyal  hearts,  within  her  bosom  beat, 
And  homes  of  love  and  purity  are  e'er  a  safe  retreat! 

Behold  her  galaxy  of  names,  among  the  good  and  great 
No  brighter  ones,  elsewhere,  in  nation,  or  in  state; 
In  brilliancy  they  '11  shine,  and  down  from  age  to  age 
Will  noble  deeds  be  stamped  upon  historic  page; 
Authors,  poets,  statesmen,  high  on  th'  scroll  of  Fame! 
Look  down  the  list,  and  you  shall  find  not  one  ignoble 


Despite  all  adverse  minds,  and  threat'ning  skies 
Maine's  Temperance  Banner  still  in  triumph  flies! 

As  th'  grand  old  Ship  of  State,  is  launched,  while  tem- 
pests rave, 

Yet  proudly  rides  at  last  upon  the  topmost  wave, 
So,  th'  righteous  cause  —  the  Heaven  ordained, 
Shall  never  know  defeat, 
She  e'er  can  boast  o'er  sin  and  crime, 
Her  victory  complete! 

Grave  problems,   that  confront  her    now,  provoking 

loud  debate 
That  threaten  dire  disaster,  alike  to  Church  and  State, 

136 


C  jlj, 


Call  for  ready  action,  in  men  of  wisdom  sound, 
And  whose  sure  and  safe  solution,  is  in  the  ballot  found  ! 
Maine  will  verify  her  motto  —  "I  direct.    I  lead  —  " 
Known  well,  and  felt  abroad  —  her  watchword,  and 
her  creed. 

But,  to  return  to  th'  days  of  yore  — 

When  first  the  upturned  sod 
Revealed  these  rich  and  fertile  soils, 

That  first  the  white  man  trod  ! 

Were  time  and  space  available, 

I  'd  mention  every  one. 
Those  noble  stalwart  pioneers, 
Each  daughter  and  each  son. 

I'd  tell  of  exploits,  that  should  win 

A  long  enduring  name 
Grander,  nobler,  oft,  than  those 

Found  in  the  "  Hall  of  Fame." 

I  'd  tell  of  sore  discouragements, 

Alternate  hopes  and  fears, 
And  of  unrewarded  labor, 

Of  weary,  toilsome  years. 

137 


I  'd  tell  of  wives  and  mothers, 

With  Spartan  blood  aglow, 
Who  braved  the  dangerous  hardships, 

Known  to  that  long  ago. 

How,  for  love's  sweet  sake,  they  left 

The  dear  parental  care, 
Exchanged  for  homes,  in  forest  wilds, 

The  yeoman's  lot  to  share. 

And  how  the  wedding  trip  was  made 

On  ox-sleds,  and  their  guide 
The  "  spotted  trees  "  — to  show  the  way 

For  th'  bridegroom  and  the  bride, 

To  reach  the  rude  log  cabin  door, 
Oped  wide,  with  welcomes  sweet, 

The  home  of  love,  in  readiness, 
Its  mistress  fair  to  greet. 

I  'd  tell  how  hands  unused  to  toil, 

Prepared  the  frugal  meal, 
And  learned  the  weaver's  subtle  art, 

And  turned  the  spinning  wheel. 

138 


c. 


I  'd  tell  how  Fashion's  absence 

Made  happier  homes  and  lives, 
Unfettered  from  her  thraldom, 

Thrice  happy  —  husbands,  wives  ! 

That  homespun  suit  deft  ringers  wove  — 

His  Sunday's  best  array  — 
As  proud,  his  wife,  as  though  he  wore 

The  broadcloth  of  to-day. 

And  he,  th'  loyal,  tried  and  true, 

Loved  not  that  wife  the  less, 
Because,  instead  of  silks,  she  wore 

The  "  linsey  woolsey  "  dress. 

O  happy  years  !  —  I  heard  one  say  — 

One  whom  our  hearts  held  dear, 
That  th'  happiest  part  of  her  life  was  shared 

In  the  home  of  th'  pioneer! 

Where,  with  her  cedar  broom,  she  swept 

The  little  cabin  floor 
Laid  smooth  with  hemlock  bark  —  where  played 

Dear  children  'round  the  door. 

139 


'g  €HD  ^ome 


And  where,  at  nightfall,  gathered  in 
When  th'  cheering  firelight  shone, 

TV  unbroken  family  circle,  there 

'Round  th'  hearth  of  rough  hewn  stone  — 

And  where,  when  sleepy  eyes  were  closed, 
(  Here  a  glistn'ing  tear  she  shed,  ) 

They  were  borne  within  her  folded  arms, 
Each,  to  his  cradle  bed. 

She  told  me  more  —  how  Fortune  smiled, 

And  filled  their  coffers  well, 
And  naught  but  health  and  happiness 

Seemed,  in  that  home,  to  dwell. 

But  there  came  a  day  —  a  darksome  day  — 
To  that  happy  household  band, 

When  th'  gilded  domes  of  th'  far  off  town, 
Beguiled,  with  beck'ning  hand. 

But  she  told  how  soon  she  wearied 
Of  th'  dazzling  glint  and  show; 

How  she  longed  for  faces  familiar, 
Old  friends,  and  sweet  voices  low. 

140 


How  th'  homesick  hearts  of  her  children  yearned 
Through  th'  wildwood  paths  to  roam; 

For  th'  wild  bird's  song,  th'  bees,  and  th'  flowers, 
For  the  freedom  of  that  home. 

She  told  me  more  —  that  th'  church-yard  held 

Each  one  of  her  family  fold,  — 
And  the  tears  that  coursed  down  her  aged  cheek 

The  rest  of  her  story  told. 

But  they  had  left  the  "gates  ajar," 

At  th'  home  on  th'  other  shore, 
And  I  heard  that  soon  she  'd  entered  there, 

Where  households  part  no  more. 

Ah,  hers  was  the  oft  repeated  tale, 

Of  this  earthly  life's  unrest  — 
Th'  reaching  afar,  for  th'  better  beyond! 

O,  vain  and  fruitless  quest  ! 

O,  that  human  hearts  would  learn 

The  ways  of  true  content  — 
And  God's  great  wisdom  e'er  discern, 

In  His  humblest  blessings  sent! 


141 


TO  MR.  D.   C.   HEATH 

My  dear  good  sir:    Promoter  of  these  gatherings 

In  your  native  Pine  Tree  State, 
We  thank  you  for  th'  generous  thought, 

Conception  —  grand  and  great ! 

And  to-day,  your  native  town, 

Most  proudly,  welcomes  you  — 
And  in  her  name,  I  extend  th'  hand 

Of  old  friendships,  warm  and  true  ! 

And  her  other  children,  gathered  here, 

In  her  mother  arms,  to-day, 
She  folds  them  close,  who,  in  their  youth, 

Went  far  from  her  away. 

She  fain  would  pay  you  reverence, 

That  is  so  justly  due, 
For  th'  honors,  you've  conferred  'pon  her 

In  lives  so  loyal,  true. 

Of  your  self-made  records,  she  is  proud, 

Of  your  zeal,  and  enterprize, 
Of  th'  good  upon  the  world  bestowed, 

Through  labor's  sacrifice. 

I42 


C 


Her  mother's  eyes  have  followed  you, 
And  watched  your  proud  career, 

They  've  found  you  from  Aroostook's  plains 
To  th'  western  wild  frontier! 

'Neath  California's  sunny  skies 
Where  flowers,  perennial,  grow, 

Where  th'  palm  and  sweet  magnolia  rise, 
Where  th'  Southland's  breezes  blow. 

She  applauds  you  each,  upon  your  choice 

Of  husbands  and  of  wives, 
Who  have  aided  well,  in  moulding 

The  destinies  of  lives. 

Of  your  well  earned  titles,  she  is  proud  — 

Your  fields  of  labor  chosen, 
Professors,  Honorables,  and  "Squires," 

No  doubt,  are  by  the  dozen! 

The  sacred  desk  has  well  been  filled, 

With  her  sons,  of  gifts  so  rare, 
Ah,  one,  in  prime  of  usefulness, 

Has  climbed  the  "Golden  stair." 


'g  €HD  l^otne 


She  '  3  proud  of  you  all,  at  home,  or  abroad, 

As  each,  at  his  craft,  and  trade, 
Has  shown  by  honest  toil  and  skill, 

The  high  success  he  's  made. 

She  bids  you  all  welcome,  all,  to-day, 

While  she  your  praise  shall  sing, 
Welcome,  from  homes  of  th'  far,  far  west, 

To  that  of  Maine's  "  tuber  King.'"  ' 

With  her  magic  wand  she  makes  you 

Children,  again,  to-day! 
'Neath  her  parent  wing,  she  folds  you, 

And  fain  would  bid  you  stay  ! 

But  e'er  the  morrow's  setting  sun, 

She  must  say  a  fond  adieu, 
And  a  "  God  be  with  you  "  —  as  you  're  called, 

Life's  duties  still  to  do. 

One  line  for  Salem  —  dear  old  town 
Honored  and  loved  —  of  fair  renown  — 
Can  boast  of  much  —  has  seen  bright  days, 
As  forth  she  's  walked,  in  Wisdom's  ways. 

1  Mr.  Columbus  Hayford  is  Maine's  tuber,  or  potato,  king. 
144 


She  has  happy  homes,  for  which  th'  wanderers  sigh, 
Where  first  born  hopes,  and  fond  affections,  lie  — 
Where  friend  familiar  oft  greets  — 
And  peaceful  sounds  buzz  on  her  well  worn  streets  — 
Tho'  quiet,  and  quaint,  yet  her  name  shall  be 
Crowned,  with  th'   brightest  wreath  of  the  Lauras 
tree! 

Her  lives,  so  like  a  benediction  — 

As  onward  they  have  sped, 
The  same  through  sunshine  and  affliction, 

A  halo,  bright,  has  shed, 
Which  shall  cease  to  broaden  —  never, 

Like  a  circle  in  the  sea 
Merging,  in  the  Great  Forever  — 

Into  God'' s  Eternity!  — 


145 


GEORGE   UNDERWOOD'S 
ADDRESS 

MR.   PRESIDENT,   LADIES    AND    GENTLE- 
MEN :  — 

,  It  affords  me  great  pleasure  to  be  one 
of  your  number  here  to-day.  Though  per- 
sonally a  stranger  in  your  midst,  I  have 
known  of  the  good  name  of  this  community 
for  many  years,  and  of  those  who  have 
gone  out  of  it  to  attain  distinction  in  the 
various  walks  of  life. 

We  came  into  Salem  this  morning,  down 
over  Patterson  Hill.  Never  has  my  eye 
caught  a  more  beautiful  landscape  view 
than  this  little  village  and  valley  presented 
with  Old  Abram  for  a  background.  It  was 
truly  inspiring. 

I  have  passed  through  many  states  of  our 
beloved  Union,  all  affording  lovely  natural 
features,  yet  have  I  never  beheld  anything 
146 


outrivaling  this  scene  in  grandeur  and 
beauty ! 

These  Old  Home  gatherings  are  simply 
grand !  It  is  well  for  the  boy  and  the  girl 
to  come  here,  for  the  young  man  and  the 
young  woman  to  be  present  on  this  occa- 
sion. It  is  well  for  those  in  the  prime  of 
manhood  and  in  the  prime  of  womanhood 
to  come  and  enjoy  the  festivities  of  the 
day.  And  it  is  well  for  those  in  advanced 
years  to  come  and  clasp  hands  once  more, 
for  the  renewal  and  cementing  of  old  friend- 
ships. It  is  a  salutary  influence  for  youth 
and  age  to  meet  on  an  occasion  like  this. 

In  the  reminiscences  just  read,  it  will  be 
noticed  that  tribute  is  paid  to  those  who 
left  the  parental  roof  when  young,  and 
went  out  into  "  Life's  hard  School."  Their 
life  work  is  commendable,  and  the  writer 
who  penned  these  lines  has  in  no  way  ex- 
ceeded justice,  when  she  calls  your  atten- 
tion to  what  they  have  accomplished. 


George 


But,  Mr.  President,  I  wish  to  say  a  few 
words  to  those  who  have  stayed  at  home. 

Only  a  few  generations  ago  this  now 
beautiful  valley,  and  these  adjacent  hill- 
sides, were  covered  with  stately  trees,  kissed 
by  the  sparkling  rays  of  the  morning  sun. 
The  Red  Man  hunted  his  game  along  these 
hillsides  and  through  these  valleys,  and 
fished  these  water-ways  unmolested.  The 
wild  beasts  roamed  these  forests  at  will. 

Your  fathers  came.  They  felled  and 
burned  these  trees,  and  prepared  the  soil 
for  seed.  For  many  years  they  sowed  and 
gathered  into  barns.  They  increased  their 
acres,  and  made  these  fine  homes  that  we 
see  all  about  us.  They  labored  under  many 
difficulties  and  many  privations  that  you 
are  not  experiencing  to-day.  Noble  men 
and  noble  women  !  They  "  builded  better 
than  they  knew."  Peace  to  their  ashes, 
that  rest  in  yonder  churchyard  !  We  do 
not  forget  that  you,  their  descendants, 
148 


have  perseveringly  remained  upon  and 
tilled  these  lands,  and  it  is  you  who  have 
made  this  gathering  possible  here  to-day. 

NOTE  :  In  sending  copy  for  his  address,  Mr. 
Underwood  wrote  under  date  of  October  25,  1904  : 
"1  enclose  reluctantly,  fearing  that  it  is  not  worthy  a 
place  in  your  booklet,  a  summary  of  my  remarks  at  the 
Old  Home  gathering  at  Salem.  They  were  entirely 
impromptu.  If  such  stray  and  disconnected  thoughts 
will  be  of  any  use,  I  am  glad  to  assist  you. 

"  Now  a  word  in  regard  to  the  gathering  in  your 
old  home  town.  It  was  a  grand  success  in  all  its 
appointments.  The  people  responded  nobly  and  the 
management  was  superb,  from  start  to  finish.  The 
occasion  was  one  long  to  be  remembered." 


149 


PRESENTATION  OF  CAKE  : 

The  cake  to  be  given  to  the  oldest  per- 
son present  who  was  born  in  Salem  was 
presented  to  Mrs.  Elizabeth  Harris,  who 
was  eighty-six  years  old  on  March  6,  1904. 
She  was  escorted  to  the  platform  by  the 
chairman,  and  received  her  honors  like  a 
girl  —  eighty-six  years  young. 


MRS.   ELIZABETH   HARRIS 


ISO 


CHAIRMAN  :  I  cannot  better  intro- 
duce the  next  speaker  than  by  giving 
Goldsmith's  description  of  "  An  Old- 
time  Schoolmaster,"  for  it  fits  the  Hon- 
orable Joel  Wilbur  as  I  remember  him 
when  he  was  my  schoolmaster  :  - 

'<  A  man  severe  he  was,  and  stern  to  view, 

I  knew  him  well,  and  every  truant  knew. 

Well  had  the  boding  tremblers  learned  to  trace 

The  day's  disasters  in  his  morning  face; 

Full  well  they  laughed,  with  counterfeited  glee, 

At  all  his  jokes,  for  many  a  joke  had  he; 

Full  well  the  busy  whisper,  circling  'round, 

Conveyed  the  dismal  tidings  when  he  frowned. 

Yet  he  was  kind,  or  if  severe  in  aught, 

The  love  he  bore  to  learning  was  in  fault. 

The  village  all  declared  how  much  he  knew; 

'T  was  certain  he  could  write  and  cipher,  too; 

Lands  he  could  measure,  terms  and  tides  presage, 

And  even  the  story  ran  that  he  could  gauge. 

In  arguing,  too,  the  parson  owned  his  skill, 

For  ev'n  though  vanquished  he  could  argue  still, 

While  words  of  learned  length,  and  thund' ring  sound 

Amazed  the  gazing  rustics  ranged  around; 

And  still  they  gazed,  and  still  the  wonder  grew 

That  one  small  head  could  carry  all  he  knew." 


HON.  JOEL   WILBUR'S 
ADDRESS 

SONS   AND  DAUGHTERS   OF  SALEM:  — 

The  lateness  of  the  hour  and  the  wealth 
of  reminiscence  and  oratory  presented  to 
you  by  my  predecessors,  precludes  the  ne- 
cessity of  any  extended  remarks 
at  this  time.  I  fully  concur  with 
and  endorse  all  that  has  been 
said  regarding  the  grandeur  of 
the  mountains,  the  beauty  of 
the  meadows,  the  sweet  music 
of  the  running  brooks,  and 
all  the  natural  attractions  sur- 
rounding this  beautiful,  quiet, 
and  restful  village  in  the  dear 
old  town  of  Salem.  1  also  en- 

HON      JOEL    WILBUR 

dorse  the  truth  of  the  state- 
ments relative  to  the  ability,  the  integrity, 
and  the  high  order  of  citizenship  mani- 


fested  by  the  many  sons  who  have  gone 
out  of  this  Town,  and  have  made  homes 
in  other  places  and  in  other  States ;  many 
of  whom  have  honored  us  to-day  by  their 
presence,  and  have  contributed  in  a 
marked  degree  to  making  this  meeting 
so  interesting  and  pleasant  to  us  all. 
Furthermore,  I  congratulate  the  resi- 
dents, ladies  and  gentlemen,  for  the  very 
hospitable  way  in  which  they  have  arranged 
all  things  for  our  comfort  and  happiness. 
In  the  absence  of  hotels,  the  people  have 
all  turned  hosts,  and  with  remarkable  suc- 
cess. 

I  have  been  asked,  and  very  properly, 
why  I  appear  on  this  platform,  not  being 
a  son  of  Salem  either  by  birth,  adoption, 
ormarriage.  I  offer  two  reasons.  My  mother 
was  endeared  to  very  many  of  the  early 
residents  by  ties  of  kindred.  Three  bro- 
thers and  her  mother  lived  and  died  in  this 
town.  Many  other  relatives  to  whom  she 


,  3Ioel 


was  strongly  attached  by  that  lasting  tie 
of  friendship,  still  are  here  as  witnesses  to 
what  I  say. 

Another  reason  why  I  am  permitted  to 
meet  with  you  is  the  fact  that  fifty  years 
ago  I  had  the  pleasure  and  honor  of  teach- 
ing a  term  of  school  in  this  village.  And 
I  am  here  to  greet  my  scholars,  to  salute 
them,  to  look  into  their  bright  eyes,  to  be- 
hold their  youthful  and  rosy  faces,  and  to 
grasp  their  hands  once  more  in  memory  of 
the  old  school  days.  Less  than  nine  of  a 
roll  of  more  than  fifty  pupils  I  meet  to- 
day. The  classes  are  broken,  some  extinct. 
"First,  second,  and  third  classes,"  I  call, 
and  only  two  or  three  scholars  respond. 
Why  is  it  ?  Where  are  the  boys  and  girls  ? 
Fifty  years  in  this  onward  march  have  car- 
ried the  child  to  youth,  manhood,  old  age, 
or  death,  thus  closing  the  school  of  life.  I 
remember  I  had  some  very  bright  and 
diligent  pupils  here,  and  some  roguish 


ones  also.  Your  honored  President  was 
both.  In  youth  he  was  brave,  generous, 
and  honest.  He  has  proven  himself  so 
to-day  by  these  splendid  gifts  to  his  na- 
tive town.  It  means  much  to  the  people 
of  this  place  —  more  than  you  can  esti- 
mate. 

We  have  inherited  a  vast  accumula- 
tion of  knowledge  and  experience.  The 
knowledge  of  fifty  years  ago  is  not  the 
knowledge  of  to-day.  It  has  expanded 
more  and  more  with  each  passing  year. 
The  greatest  nation,  the  most  intelligent 
and  progressive  people,  with  the  best  con- 
stitutional government,  most  wisely  ad- 
ministered, is  ours  to  enjoy  and  transmit 
to  our  children.  Fortunate,  indeed,  have 
we  been  to  live  in  the  latter  half  of  the 
nineteenth  century ! 

But  the  setting  sun  admonishes  me  of 
the  close  of  this  beautiful  and  never-to-be- 
forgotten  day,  and  with  it  I  dismiss  my 


,  3ioel  Wilbur 


school  and  say  farewell  to  the  remaining 
few  of  my  pupils  of  fifty  years  ago,  know- 
ing that  we  shall  all  meet  again  in  that  great 
School  where  God  will  be  our  Teacher  and 
infinite  perfection  the  study  of  all. 

NOTE  :  Mr.  Wilbur,  in  sending  the  above  brief  of 
his  Address,  said  :  "  Much  I  had  thought  to  say  had 
been  said  before  my  turn  came,  so  at  the  time  I  was 
forced  to  take  up  some  other  line  of  thought  in  rather 
a  broken  manner.  Nevertheless,  I  enjoyed  very  much 
the  day,  the  occasion,  and  the  company.  I  shall  recall 
it  with  much  pleasure." 


I56 


Singing  by  all  present. 

AULD  LANG  SYNE 
Should  auld  acquaintance  be  forgot, 

And  never  brought  to  mind  ? 
Should  auld  acquaintance  be  forgot, 

And  days  of  auld  lang  syne  ? 

Chorus. 

For  auld  lang  syne,  my  dear, 

For  auld  lang  syne  ; 
We  '11  tak'  a  cup  o'  kindness  yet 
For  auld  lang  syne. 

And  here  's  a  hand,  my  trusty  frien', 
And  gie  's  a  hand  o'  thine  ; 

We  '11  tak'  a  cup  o'  kindness  yet, 
For  auld  lang  syne. 

Chorus. 

Benediction  by  Rev.  H.  S.  Trueman. 


157 


THE    AFTERMATH 

THE  day  following  the  Reunion  was  a 
memorable  one.  The  hospitable  towns- 
people took  their  guests  driving  to  hal- 
lowed spots,  the  sites  of  their  old  homes, 
the  burial  places  of  their  dead.  Some  of 
the  visitors  climbed  Mt.  Abram.  Others 
fished  in  the  old  streams  or  walked  in 
familiar  paths  to  places  they  loved.  All 
said  that  it  was  "  good  to  be  there." 

THE  FIRST  BOOK  GIVEN  TO  THE  NEW  LIBRARY 

Mrs.  Edna  Worthley  Underwood, great- 
granddaughter  of  Albert  Hayford  (known 
to  the  literary  world  by  her  maiden  name, 
Edna  Worthley},  sent  a  copy  of  her  transla- 
tion from  the  Russian  of  Evenings  in  Little 
Russia,  with  the  following  inscription  : 

"  This  book  is  presented  to  the  Salem  Public  Library 
by  the  Translator,  Edna  Worthley  Underwood,  born  in 
Phillips,  Maine,  granddaughter  of  Deborah  Bonney  How- 

I58 


13006 


ard,  nee  Hayford,  who  was  born  in  Salem,  Maine, 
January  ro,  1824.  Deborah  Bonney  Howard  is  the 
daughter  of  Albert  Hayford,  one  of  the  earliest  settlers 
of  Salem." 

Unfortunately  the  book  was  not  re- 
ceived until  the  day  after  the  meeting, 
but  it  will  be  treasured  as  the  first  volume 
given  to  the  Charles  M.  Heath  Memo- 
rial Library. 

In  sending  her  poem,  page  v,  Mrs. 
Edna  Worthley  Underwood  wrote :  "  I 
trust  that  New  England  will  give  you  her 
very  sunniest  sky  for  the  Reunion  week 
and  that  it  may  be  a  memorable  week  for 
the  sons  and  daughters  of  North  Frank- 
lin." 

MORE    REMINISCENCES 

Doubtless  every  one  in  the  audience 
that  day  was  reminded  of  noble  citizens 
who  ought  to  have  at  least  "  honorable 
mention "  in  a  Salem  celebration.  The 
chairman  was  among  those  who  wished 
the  day  were  longer  that  justice  might  be 


done  to  all.  But  the  "  Old  Home  Day" 
experiment  was  a  new  one,  and  in  future 
our  successors  will  be  able  to  benefit  by 
our  mistakes  and  omissions. 

Mr.  Charles  H.  Bangs  of  Everett  sends 
us  further  reminiscences  of  the  western 
part  of  the  town,  to  supplement  those  of 
Mr.  Heath  and  Mr.  Harris. 

MORE  REMINISCENCES  OF  THE  WESTERN 
PART  OF  THE  TOWN.  BY  CHARLES  H. 
BANGS,  EVERETT,  MASS. 

No  special  mention  has  been  made  of 
that  section  of  the  town  and  neighborhood 
in  which  my  father's  farm  was  located.  I 
will  therefore  give  some  recollections  of 
the  farms,  and  their  occupants  fifty  years 
ago,  and  at  a  previous  date,  as  far  as  I  am 
able  ;  and,  as  far  as  I  know,  the  conditions 
of  occupancy  or  otherwise  to-day. 

On  the  road,  beginning  at  the  top  of 
the  Graffam  or  Seavey  Hill,  lived,  and  I 
160 


believe  now  lives,  Wm.  Seavey,  in  the 
house  formerly  occupied  by  Oliver  Graf- 
fam.  John  Cunningham  lived  in  the  next 
residence,  and  my  uncle,  John  C.  Heath, 
the  next  west.  Next  to  the  bridge  which 
crossed  the  Quick  Stream,  lived  Mr.  Lead- 
better,  whose  first  name  I  have  forgotten. 
His  house  has  ceased  to  exist. 

Crossing  the  bridge,  to  the  Barker  farm, 
there  was  the  school-house  which  replaced 
the  log  school-house.  In  this  school- 
house,  I  received  the  most  of  my  Common 
School  education.  The  next  farm  was  that 
occupied  by  Amos  Barker,  and  next  to 
that  was  my  old  birthplace,  the  Bangs 
farm.  Joining  my  father's  farm,  on  the 
north,  were  three  farms,  two  of  which  had 
occupants  within  my  memory.  On  the 
Tarr  place,  farthest  east,  (once  occupied  by 
a  family  of  that  name),  scarcely  any  vestige 
of  buildings  remained  as  far  back  as  thirty 
years  ago. 

161 


Jttore  Eeminteceweg 


Next,  west  of  this,  was  the  Voter  place 
once  occupied  by  my  uncle  Gilbert  Voter, 
of  which  no  buildings  now  remain.  Ad- 
joining this  was  the  Davis  place,  never 
occupied  within  my  recollection.  Farther 
north  of  the  Voter  place  was  the  one-time 
residence  of  my  uncle,  John  C.  Heath. 
This,  and  the  two  adjoining  farms,  once 
occupied,  are  now  vacant.  Just  beyond 
the  residence  of  my  father  were  two  roads 
which  formed  a  triangle.  Following  the 
more  northerly  of  these,  you  came  on  the 
right  to  what  was  known  as  the  Winslow 
place,  at  one  time  occupied  by  Samuel 
Winslow.  The  buildings  disappeared  en- 
tirely many  years  ago. 

On  the  left  was  a  later  residence,  occu- 
pied at  one  time  by  Jas.  Folsom.  These 
latter  buildings  may  still  be  in  existence, 
and  possibly  are  occupied.  Farther  along 
to  the  west  was  the  residence  of  Elisha 
Jones.  North  of  this  was  the  farm  and 
162 


Charles  ^* 


residence  of  Thomas  Greene,  where  I 
think  the  County  Commissioner,  Isaac  W. 
Greene,  was  born. 

The  last  residence  in  the  town,  to  the 
west,  was  the  Clayton  farm.  All  of  the 
last  three  had  gone  to  ruin  over  twenty- 
five  years  ago,  and  their  number  was  added 
to  the  list  of  Maine's  deserted  farms.  Fol- 
lowing the  other  branch  of  the  road,  to 
the  south,  the  first  farm  and  residence  was 
occupied  by  John  Richards,  and  later  by 
Simeon  Turner.  Next  west  of  this,  or  be- 
yond what  was  known  as  the  Dug  Hills, 
was  a  residence  once  occupied  by  Luther 
Childs,  but  long  since  gone  to  decay. 

The  next  and  last  residence  before  you 
come  to  the  Phillips  line,  was  that  of  Wm. 
Folsom.  This  is  probably  still  extant. 
North  of  this,  was  the  Elias  Winslow  farm, 
the  residence  on  which  has  long  since 
ceased  to  exist.  South  of  my  father's  farm 
was  what  was  known  as  the  Sweat  place, 
163 


i&eminfecenceg 


buildings  of  which  have  long  since  gone 
to  decay,  but  have  been  occupied  within 
my  remembrance. 

Within  my  own  school  district  was  the 
Curtis  place,  and  north  of  that  two  other 
places,  all  of  which  have  ceased  to  exist. 
Of  all  these  mentioned,  the  only  ones  1 
can  say  are  remaining  and  occupied,  are 
the  Seavey  place,  probably  the  Cunning- 
ham place,  the  Heath  place  (Aunt  Julia's), 
the  Barker  place,  the  Bangs  place  and 
the  Folsom  place ;  about  one-third  of  the 
original  number. 

THE    FIRST    WHITE    CHILD    BORN    IN    SALEM 

Mrs.  Worthley,  the  mother  of  Mrs. 
Edna  W.  Underwood  and  the  grand- 
daughter of  Albert  Hayford,  writes  that 
he  was  born  in  Hartford,  Me.,  in  1785 
and  lived  in  Sumner,  Me.,  till  1813,  when 
he  moved  to  Salem.  He  served  in  the 
war  of  1812.  His  daughter,  Mrs.  Debo- 
164 


€HD  i^ome 


rah  Howard,  says  that  her  eldest  sister, 
Artemina  Hayford,  was  born  March  7, 
1816,  and  was  the  first  white  child  born 
in  Salem. 

OLD    HOME    DAY 

Letters  of  congratulation  and  approval 
of  the  Reunion  have  been  received  from  Mr. 
F.  L.  Porter,  of  Eustis,  Maine,  and  from 
many  others.  Rev.  Abel  Pottle  writes : 

I  think  our  Salem  affair  a  grand  success,  from 
start  to  finish.  It  will  always  afford  me  a  pleas- 
ant memory  and  I  think  will  do  the  present 
residents  there  a  great  deal  of  good. 

Did  n't  they  "  do  themselves  proud"  in  the  way 
they  received  and  entertained  their  visitors, — 
especially  on  that  dinner  !  They  did  themselves 
a  great  deal  of  credit.  It  was  well-gotten  up, 
successfully  carried  out  and  reflected  great  credit 
on  all  who  had  a  hand  in  it ;  especially  on  your- 
self and  Walter.  I  have  made  up  my  mind  that 
so  long  as  I  have  my  health,  and  strength  per- 
mits, I  will  annually  visit  the  old  town. 
165 


Bemintecenceg 


In  reply  to  this  letter  of  Rev.  Mr.  Pot- 
tle, Mr.  Heath  of  Boston,  chairman  of  the 
meeting,  wrote :  — 

DEAR  ABEL,  —  I  am  delighted  that  the  after- 
taste of  the  little  Salem  affair  is  so  pleasant  to 
you.  That  makes  me  a  little  better  satisfied  with 
it.  The  only  point  in  which  I  was  not  satisfied 
before  we  began,  and  after  we  got  through,  was 
that  the  Heaths  had  altogether  too  prominent  a 
part  in  it ;  but  that  could  not  be  helped.  To 
tell  you  the  plain  truth,  I  could  not  get  anybody 
outside  of  the  Heaths,  who  figure  there,  to  take 
hold  of  it.  You  know  I  started  it  over  two  years 
ago,  because  I  thought  it  would  do  the  town  good 
and  do  the  rest  of  us  good  also.  Besides,  I  have 
had  a  little  experience  in  that  sort  of  thing ;  in 
fact,  I  had  quite  a  good  deal  of  experience  in  cre- 
ating Old  Home  Week  for  our  State  as  a  whole. 
If  the  people  of  the  State  knew  what  good  an 
Old  Home  Day,  or  Week,  every  year  would  do 
them,  they  would  be  enthusiastic  over  it  and 
prepare  for  it  most  cheerfully. 

After  I  got  the  Salem  Re-union  started,  I 
166 


found  I  could  get  nobody  from  whom  I  could 
ge.t  a  history  of  the  town  so  well  as  from  Wal- 
ter. He  has  lived  there  always,  has  been  a  mem- 
ber of  the  Board  of  Selectmen  a  good  part  of 
the  time  as  well  as  Town  Clerk,  has  a  good 
memory,  and,  I  suspected,  would  know  more 
about  the  history  of  the  town  and  the  people, 
or  could  more  easily  find  it,  than  anybody  else. 

So  far  as  other  families  are  concerned,  there 
was  no  disposition,  you  can  readily  believe,  to 
slight  any  family.  We  had  to  take  what  we 
could  get  and  all  we  could  get  and  do  just  as 
well  with  it  as  possible.  There  are  a  lot  of 
families  who  should  have  had  a  part  in  the  his- 
tory of  the  town  —  I  mean  a  detailed  history 
giving  more  than  the  simple  chronology,  which 
was  all  that  Walter  tried  to  give.  But  they  will 
have  their  chance  in  the  future. 

One  of  the  best  things  about  an  Old  Home 
Week  is  that  it  brings  in  a  lot  of  information 
about  people  and  events  that  makes  good  mate- 
rial for  a  local  history,  and  eventually  it  is  in  a 
History,  where  otherwise  there  would  be  none. 

167 


Mr.  Chas.  H.  Pease,  of  Holliston, 
Mass.,  son  of  Albert  Pease,  writes  : 

I  am  very  glad  you  had  so  enjoyable  and 
profitable  a  time  as  reports  show,  both  from  the 
local  press,  and  from  some  persons  who  were 
there.  I  should  much  have  liked  to  be  there, 
but  circumstances  prevented.  I  should  have 
written  something  to  the  Commitee  but  did  not 
see  a  chance  to  do  so  after  I  became  aware  of 
the  date  of  the  event . 

Yes,  by  all  means,  print  my  father's  sketch. 
I  shall  be  glad  to  have  it  in  booklet  form,  as 
well  as  the  contributions  of  others. 

Mrs.  Carrie  Nash  Underwood,  Fayette, 
Maine,  writes : 

We  cannot  cease  to  thank  you,  and  to  feel 
profoundly  grateful  to  you,  for  being  instrumen- 
tal in  conferring  so  much  pleasure,  yes,  happi- 
ness upon  us,  personally,  on  that  memorable 
1 7th  day  of  August,  1904.  To  say  that  it  was 
a  "  red  letter  day,"  would  express  it  too  moder- 
ately. That  it  was  in  its  line,  the  happiest  day 
1 68 


€>lt> 


of  my  life,  is  but  the  utterance  of  simple  truth. 
That  the  day  has  passed,  and  that  nothing  is  left 
of  it  but  a  memory,  is  far  from  what  it  appears  to 
me.  The  radiant  day,  the  lovely  old  landscape, 
those  faces  so  familiar  in  the  long  ago,  those 
warm, true  and  friendly  hand-clasps,  those  voices, 
those  kindly  words  of  greeting,  —  everything  con- 
nected with  it,  is  constantly  with  me  !  I  am  living 
in  its  atmosphere  every  day  ! 


169 


EXTRACT 


COMMENCING  on  Sunday,  August  i4th, 
Old  Home  Week  was  most  appropriately 
opened  in  Salem,  when  the  forenoon  ser- 
vice was  conducted  in  the  Union  Church 
by  Rev.  Leonard  Hutchins  of  East  New 
Portland,  who  was  a  pastor  of  the  Free 
Baptist  Church  of  Salem  for  over  "thirty 
years.  He  preached  a  very  instructive  and 
able  sermon.  At  2.30  P.  M.  Rev.  Abel 
Pottle,  who  claims  Salem  as  his  birthplace, 
but  who  is  now  preaching  and  residing  at 
Lisbon  Falls,  gave  us  one  of  his  eloquent 
and  instructive  sermons  which  was  heard 
by  at  least  one  hundred  and  twenty-five 
persons.  The  church  was  filled  to  its  ut- 
most capacity  and  chairs  from  the  hall  and 
from  private  houses  had  to  be  used  to  ac- 
commodate the  congregation. 
170 


farmtngton  Chronicle 

Monday  and  Tuesday  were  given  to 
boating,  fishing,  and  driving  about  the 
town  by  the  townspeople  and  visitors  from 
all  over  New  England. 

Then  came  Wednesday,  Old  Home 
Day,  which  had  previously  been  set  apart 
for  a  brief  history  of  the  town  and  some 
reminiscences  of  former  days  of  Salem 
and  its  people.  At  the  early  dawn  of  this 
day,  it  was  a  little  cloudy  ;  but,  at  9  A.  M., 
the  time  set  to  meet  at  the  Union  Church 
(more  familiarly  known  as  "  The  Town 
House "),  the  clouds  had  vanished  and 
the  sun  shone  in  all  its  brightness. 

On  the  arrival  of  the  train,  the  Com- 
mittee met  the  guests  at  the  station  and 
escorted  them  to  the  village.  After  pass- 
ing a  short  time  at  the  church  and  shak- 
ing hands  with  old  acquaintances,  the 
company  repaired  to  the  grove  to  listen 
to  the  speakers  and  partake  of  the  dinner 
that  was  being  prepared  by  the  ladies. 
171 


from 


At  10.30  D.  C.  Heath,  president  of 
the  day,  called  the  meeting  to  order  and 
Rev.  Abel  Pottle  offered  a  fervent  prayer. 
The  Address  of  Welcome  was  delivered 
by  Walter  S.  Heath  and  D.  C.  Heath 
responded.  Next  on  the  programme  was  a 
history  of  the  town  by  Walter  S.  Heath, 
and  then  throughout  the  grove  rang  the 
strains  of  Home,  Sweet  Home.  Every  one 
seemed  to  join  in  singing  this  touching 
old  song  and  not  a  few  tears  came  to 
the  eyes  of  the  old  residents  of  Salem. 
Then  Rev.  Abel  Pottle  read  selections 
from  an  old  Farmington  Chronicle  giving 
the  annals  of  Salem  and  was  listened  to 
attentively  by  the  large  audience. 

Next  came  Charles  H.  Bangs  of  Ever- 
ett, Mass.,  who  read  one  of  his  own  poems 
full  of  music,  and  closed  amid  applause. 
Then  D.  C.  Heath  called  on  Sumner 
Lovejoy  for  some  music  on  the  fife.  He 
came  forward,  as  did  also  G.  A.  Page  of 
172 


tfarmington  Cljronfcie 

Kingfield  with  his  drum,  and  as  all  in  this 
vicinity  know  and  have  heard  Sumner's 
fife  and  Page's  drum,  it  is  needless  to  say 
that  the  music  was  thrilling. 

Hon.  George  Pottle  of  Lewiston,  ex- 
Mayor  and  State  Assessor,  and  Rev. 
Abel  Pottle  made  speeches  which  were 
short  but  very  interesting  and  claimed 
the  entire  attention  of  the  audience.  El- 
bridge  G.  Heath  of  Auburn  was  the  next 
speaker,  with  very  interesting  remarks,  in 
character  relating  to  the  early  history  of 
the  town.  The  next  speaker  called  on  for 
remarks  was  George  W.  Harris,  whose 
address  was  followed  by  the  singing  of 
The  Old  Oaken  Bucket. 

And  then  dinner  was  announced.  And 
such  a  dinner  !  Just  such  a  dinner  as  the 
ladies  of  Salem  get,  —  "A  No.  i,"  so  say 
all  that  had  a  sample.  Those  who  ate  at 
the  tables  set  in  the  grove  were  supplied 
in  detachments,  until  all  were  satisfied. 
173 


detract  from 


After  dinner  votes  of  thanks  were  heart- 
ily extended  to  all  who  had  assisted  in 
making  this  day  of  Salem's  Old  Home 
Week  a  success. 

George  Underwood  of  Fayette  then 
addressed- the  meeting  in  a  very  able  and 
interesting  manner  on  topics  relating  to 
the  welfare  of  the  State  in  general.  Then 
the  topic  of  our  schools  and  schoolmas- 
ters, by  Hon.  Joel  Wilbur  of  Phillips, 
was  ably  discussed  and  was  indeed  inter- 
esting. He  closed  amid  enthusiastic  ap- 
plause. 

Next  the  poem  by  Mrs.  George  Un- 
derwood (n'ee  Carrie  Nash)  of  Fayette 
was  greatly  enjoyed  and  appreciated  by 
the  audience. 

Then  came  the  presentation  of  a  cake 
to  the  oldest  person  present  who  was 
born  in  Salem,  and  this  was  won  by  Mrs. 
Elizabeth  L.  Harris,  who  was  escorted  to 
the  stand  by  D.  C.  Heath.  Mrs.  Harris 
174 


f armington  Chronicle 

was  eighty-six  years  old  on  the  6th  day 
of  March,  1904. 

With  the  music  of  Auld  Lang  Syne  the 
Old  Home  Week  celebration  closed,  a 
successful  and  delightful  day. 


OLD    HOME    DAY    MAIL 
BAG. 

WE  regret  that  we  cannot  publish  all 
the  letters  received  by  the  Committee. 
Lack  of  space  limits  us  to  those  from 
very  old  people,  far  away,  but  known  to 
many  of  you  and  to  such  as  contain 
reminiscences,  post  office  addresses,  and 
genealogies,  that  ought  to  be  preserved. 

FROM    MISS    GAY,    AUGUSTA,    MAINE. 

I  received  your  kind  letter.  I  think  it  will 
hardly  be  so  I  can  come  up  there.  I  am  getting 
old  and  feeble.  I  was  eighty  years  last  Friday. 
I  have  one  brother,  Sidney.  His  home  is  in  ... 
Here  the  dear  hand  tired  and 

Mrs.  E.  M.  Gay,  the  niece  of  Miss  Gay, 
completed  the  letter,  saying : 

Aunt  Phronie  has  written  so  far  and  wishes 
me  to  finish,  as  she  is  tired  and  it  is  a  long  time 
since  she  has  written  to  any  one.    Although  she 
176 


is  the  oldest  of  the  family,  she  has  outlived  them 
all  except  her  brother  Sidney,  who  has  been  very 
ill  but  is  improving.  I  do  not  know  his  address. 
The  eldest  brother,  Benjamin,  who  was  my 
husband,  died  in  1880,  •and  a  sister  five  years 
younger  than  herself  in  1896.  Her  mother,  who 
was  a  Turner,  died  in  1879  and  her  father  in 
January,  1889.  She  is  very  lonely  and  is  long- 
ing to  be  with  them,  but  tries  to  be  patient. 
Perhaps  you  may  remember  the  Turner  family, 
Charles,  Oilman,  Sidney  and  Oliver,  and  sev- 
eral daughters.  Mother  was  Abbie  and  I  have 
met  Aunt  Chloe.  They  were  an  excellent  family 
but  they  have  all  passed  away.  Uncle  Gilman 
was  for  many  years  Superintendent  of  the  State 
House.  John  Turner,  a  son  of  Charles  Turner, 
is  living  now  in  Charlestown,  Mass. 

Mr.  John  Turner  of  Charlestown  writes: 

Aunt  Phronie  was  never  married.  Her  father's 
name  was  Gay  and  he  married  my  father's  sister 
Betsey  Turner.  My  brother  and  I  were  born 
in  Salem  and  lived  there  until  I  was  three  and 
he  ten.  We  then  moved  to  West  Sumner, 
177 


jttail 


where  we  lived  until  1845.  Then  my  mother 
died  and  home  broke  up.  We  have  since  been 
in  Massachusetts.  I  was  seventy-eight  years  old 
the  23rd  of  last  January. 

FROM    F.    G.    MILLS,    LOWELL,    MASS. 

DEAR  COUSIN  WALTER  AND  ALL  OLD 
FRIENDS  AND  NEIGHBORS  AT  HOME  :  —  I  feel 
very  sorry,  and  my  wife  is  much  disappointed, 
because  we  find  at  the  last  moment  we  shall 
not  be  able  to  come  to  Salem.  We  have  been 
looking  forward  to  this  Old  Home  Week  and 
Reunion  for  a  year  and  it  seems  too  bad  to  be 
disappointed,  but  there  is  a  Strike  here  now  and 
I  cannot  get  away.  I  am  very  sorry  not  .to  be 
present,  for  I  feel  it  is  more  than  likely  to  be 
the  last  opportunity  we  may  have  to  meet  at  our 
old  home  at  the  foot  of  Mt.  Abram.  Our  minds 
and  hearts  will  be  with  you  all  on  the  lyth  and 
we  know  you  will  enjoy  the  day. 

FROM  MISS  JULIA    H.   MAY,  STRONG,  MAINE. 

DEAR  MR.  POTTLE  :  —  My  sister  taught  in 
Salem  long  ago  ;  I  do  not  know  just  the  date, 
178 


I3ag 


but  you  probably  know.  I  was  south,  I  think, 
at  the  time,  and  so  never  went  to  Salem  while 
she  was  there,  but  I  remember  her  letters  and 
her  descriptions  of  the  place  and  people  and 
especially  of  her  boarding  place  and  her  pupils. 
I  think  she  boarded  with  three  old  people  who 
were  unmarried,  a  brother  and  two  sisters,  who 
were  quaint  and  interesting  and  very  kind  to 
her;  I  have  forgotten  the  name.  I  remember 
she  spoke  often  of  your  people  and  think  some 
one  of  them  was  School  Agent.  She  had  some 
delightful  scholars  whom  she  often  mentioned 
in  later  life.  Among'  these  were  several  of  your 
brothers  I  think,  and  some  of  the  Blakes.  She 
always  looked  back  upon  that  school  with  de- 
light. 

I  was  never  in  Salem,  except  to  pass  through 
in  the  cars,  and  have  no  right  to  be  with  you 
today,  but  I  am  interested  in  all  Old  Home  Re- 
unions and  I  want  to  send  my  congratulations 
to  the  people  of  Salem.  I  think  my  father  had 
many  friends  there  in  the  long  long  ago. 


179 


Miss  May  wrote  also  at  the  same  date 
to  Mr.  Heath : 

I  am  thinking  of  your  Reunion  at  Salem  to- 
morrow and  am  glad  that  what  has  been  so  near 
your  heart  and  thought  has  at  length  materi- 
alized. I  trust  the  day  will  be  all  that  you  ex- 
pect, and  more.  I  love  your  Mt.  Abram  and 
almost  feel  that  I  have  some  rights  of  posses- 
sion. The  view  of  it  from  my  childhood's  home 
was  one  of  my  first  delights,  and  the  view  from 
what  we  call  the  Sfbre  Hill  in  Strong  is  more 
beautiful  than  any  mountain  view  I  know,  and 
I  know  a  great  many. 

Mt.  Abram  deep  within  my  heart, 
As  upward  in  the  sky, 
Of  memory  a  precious  part, 
Your  triple  summits  lie. 

Trusting  that  the  day  may  be  delightful,  and 
that  you  may  enjoy  many  others  of  the  kind, 
and  thanking  you  heartily  for  all  your  unselfish 
interest  in  your  native  county,  I  am, 
Your  friend, 

JULIA  H.  MAY. 
180 


FROM    F.    S.    SMITH,  LOWELL,  MASS. 

In  my  remembrance  of  Salem  there  is  nothing 
that  stands  out  so  clear  as  the  kindness  I  have 
received  from  many  of  its  people.  I  remember 
that  grand  old  monument,  Mt.  Abram.  I  re- 
member the  mountain  streams  as  they  sparkled 
in  the  sunlight,  and  the  speckled  trout  darting 
through  their  waters.  As  I  look  back  some 
thirty  years  or  more  I  seem  to  see  a  bare-foot 
boy,  with  a  broad-brimmed  straw  hat,  or  per- 
chance no  brim  at  all,  and  in  thought  I  am  that 
boy  again,  with  rod  and  line.  I  also  remember 
the  little  red  school-house  under  the  hill  and 
in  fancy  I  picture  the  scholars  gathered  there, 
fitting  themselves  to  go  out  and  battle  with  the 
world,  and  I  ask,  where  are  they  now  ?  Some 
have  gone  to  the  last  rest ;  others  have  gone 
out  and  made  a  successful  struggle  in  life.  It 
seems  to  me  that  the  pure  atmosphere  of  Salem 
must  be  productive  of  pure  thoughts  and  honest 
motives. 

God  bless  the  old  town,  and  God  bless  the 
Pine  Tree  State,  and  you  who  are  gathered 
181 


within  its  sacred  borders,  may  your  memories 
of  the  past  years  spent  there  be  as  pleasant  to 
you  as  mine  are  to  me ! 

Remember  me  to  all  those  who  there  knew  me. 

January  2ist,  1903,  Charles  H.  Bangs, 
of  Boston,  wrote  : 

Offhand,  I  can  supply  you  the  address  of 
B.  F.  Bradbury,  who  has  been  in  business  in 
Boston  for  many  years.  Perhaps  you  did  not 
recognize  him  as  an  old  resident.  He  has 
spoken  to  me  a  number  of  times  about  Salem 
and  he  was  well  acquainted  with  my  father. 

Henry  Heath  died  in  California  I  should  say 
fifteen  or  twenty  years  ago.  He  was  employed 
in  the  mint  there  for  a  good  many  years.  Jno. 
O.  died  in  Boston  some  eight  or  ten  years  ago. 
He  was  a  large  contractor  and  erected  the  city 
building  in  Cambridge.  Jno.  Turner,  whose  card 
I  enclose,  of  the  firm  of  Jno.  Turner  &  Co., 
was  born  in  Salem,  Jan.  23, 1827.  His  present 
residence  is  351  Main  St.,  Charlestown.  He  is 
a  director  in  the  Bunker  Hill  National  Bank. 
He  moved  from  Salem  to  Sumner,  Me.,  where 
182 


Jftail 


his  boyhood  was  spent.  At  a  reunion  held  in 
Sumner  some  years  ago  he  presented  the  town 
with  a  flag.  Horatio  G.  Turner  is  a  member 
of  the  same  firm  and  resides  in  Dedham.  His 
postoffice  address  is  Ashcroft.  He  was  born  in 
Salem,  Jan.  14,  1829.  They  moved  to  Sumner 
the  following  year.  He  was  introduced  to  me 
last  year  in  my  office  by  the  Hon.  Joel  Wilbur, 
Phillips,  Me.,  the  two  being  great  friends. 
They  are  now  on  a  trip  to  California,  and  Mr. 
Turner  is  not  expected  to  return  till  some  time 
in  March. 

MRS.      PARMELIA     E.    FRENCH,    GALESVILLE, 
WISCONSIN,  JANUARY  9,   1903. 

It  has  been  nearly  fifty  years  since  I  left 
Salem,  and  its  pleasant  associations  are  ever 
in  my  memory.  But  few  are  left  there  now. 
Many  have  moved  away,  or  have  passed  be- 
yond the  River.  I  do  not  know  the  address  of 
any  one  but  my  own  relatives,  nephews  and 
nieces. 

Mrs.  French  added,  July  28,  1904: 
183 


^ome  JDa?  jftail  Bag 


It  is  with  regret  that  I  tell  you  that  I  cannot  be 
present  at  the  Reunion.  My  health  will  not  per- 
mit me  to  take  the  journey.  I  wish  so  much  I  could 
be  there  and  shake  hands  with  you  all  personally. 
We  are  so  changed  in  our  looks,  I  wonder  if  we 
could  recognize  our  old  friends.  I  shall  think  of 
them  all  as  they  used  to  look  fifty  years  ago. 

Give  them  my  best  wishes,  and  regards.  I 
wish  I  could  be  with  them.  Shall  think  of  them, 
hoping  they  will  have  a  jolly  time.  Accept  my 
best  wishes. 

DR.  A.  W.  STINCHFIELD,  ROCHESTER,  MINN., 
MAY    4-TH,   1904. 

Nothing  could  give  me  more  pleasure  than 
to  be  in  Maine  during  "  Old  Home  Week," 
and  to  spend  a  day  in  Salem.  I  think  Wesley 
Soule  of  this  city  was  born  in,  or  at  least  lived 
in,  Salem  in  his  youthful  days. 

JAMES    C.   KEENE,  RENSSELAER,  N.   Y. 

OLD   HOME    FRIENDS  :  —  I  have  received  a 
programme  announcing  the  coming  celebration 
of  «  Old  Home  Week  "  at  the  Town  House, 
184 


^ome  l^a?  jttail  Bag 


Salem,  and  I  regret  very  much  my  inability  to 
attend.  Let  me  assure  you  that  the  old  town  of 
Salem  is  especially  dear  to  me,  because  it  is 
where  I  first  saw  the  light  of  day  and  spent 
twenty-two  years  of  my  life.  Well  do  I  remem- 
ber every  old  familiar  spot  around  the  farm  and 
neighborhood  where  I  played  as  a  boy,  the  little 
streams  that  used  to  be  full  of  trout,  and  those 
grand  old  woods.  Ah  !  there  is  no  place  like  the 
land  of  our  birth  or  the  home  of  our  childhood. 
Many  years  ago  a  poet  wrote  : 

There  is  not  a  spot  in  the  wide-peopled  earth 
So  dear  to  the  heart  as  the  land  of  our  birth; 
'Tis  the  home  of  our  childhood,  the  beautiful  spot, 
Which  mem'ry  retains  when  all  else  is  forgot. 

May  the  blessings  of  God 

Ever  hallow  the  sod, 
And  its  valleys  and  hills  by  our  children  be  trod. 

Can  the  language  of  strangers  in  accents  unknown 
Send  a  thrill  to  our  bosom  like  that  of  our  own  ? 
The  face  may  be  fair,  and  the  smile  may  be  bland, 
But  it  breathes  not  the  tones  of  our  dear  native  land. 
185 


There  is  no  spot  on  earth 
Like  the  land  of  our  birth, 
Where  heroes  keep  guard  o'er  the  altar  and  hearth. 

How  sweet  is  the  language  which  taught  us  to  blend        * 
The  dear  name  of  parent,  of  husband,  and  friend; 
Which  taught  us  to  lisp  on  our  mother's  soft  breast 
The  ballads  she  sung  as  she  rocked  us  to  rest  ! 

May  the  blessings  of  God 

Ever  hallow  the  sod; 
And  its  valleys  and  hills  by  our  children  be  trod  ! 

FROM  MRS.  ROBERT  ARMOUR  (HELEN  E. 
WHITTIER),  920  EIGHTEENTH  STREET, 
WASHINGTON,  D.  C. 

DEAR  FRIENDS  OF  MY  CHILDHOOD  :  —  A 
strange  feeling  of  homesickness  comes  over  me 
to-day  as  I  sit  here  unable  to  look  into  your 
faces  except  in  imagination.  I  find  on  the 
program  the  names  of  some  whose  faces  are 
pictured  indelibly  on  my  memory.  One  whose 
name  is  prefixed  by  "  Hon."  I  see  as  a  little 
dark-haired  boy  at  school,  first  in  every  study, 
ambitious  to  succeed,  almost  always  at  the  head 
186 


of  his  class,  and  always  ahead  of  many  who 
were  his  superiors  in  years  only.  I  see  him  one 
lovely  summer's  day  standing  on  the  bank  of  a 
little  brook,  trying  with  a  long  stick  to  splash 
water  into  the  face  of  a  little  girl  on  the  bridge. 
The  girl  playfully  picked  up  a  pebble,  thinking 
to  throw  it  into  the  water  at  his  feet  and  spatter 
the  water  over  him.  A  moment  later  she  was 
stricken  dumb  with  horror  to  see  the  blood  start 
from  a  wound  in  the  beautiful  forehead.  As  he 
was  being  led  into  the  school  house  by  his  bro- 
thers one  of  them  said,  "  I  believe  she  did  it  on 
purpose,"  and  the  sadness  and  sorrow  of  the 
little  heart  that  meant  no  wrong  can  never  be 
described.  All  through  my  childhood  and  woman- 
hood I  have  wished  to  hear  him  say,  "  You  did 
not  mean  to  do  it."  He  is  to  give  to-day  u  Some 
memories  of  the  Eastern  part  of  the  town."  I 
wonder  if  he  recalls  this  little  incident  of  his 
boyhood  ?  All  the  other  names  on  the  program 
are  familiar,  and  many  others  that  I  have  known 
whose  names  do  not  appear  will  be  with  you,  I 
am  sure.  How  I  long  to  take  each  of  you  by 
187 


Jttail  13ag 


the  hand,  look  into  your  eyes  and  tell  you  my 
heart  is  full  of  sweet  memories  of  you  all  ! 

One  year  ago,  with  my  sister  Clara,  I  was 
enabled  through  the  kindness  of  my  friends, 
Walter  S.  Heath  and  his  dear  wife,  to  visit  my 
birthplace  .on  the  Phillips  road.  We  found  it 
almost  a  trackless  wilderness,  and  not  a  stick  of 
the  old  house  was  to  be  seen.  The  roads  were 
quite  familiar,  some  houses  seemed  to  be  just 
the  same,  others  had  changed,  and  still  others, 
including  the  little  red  school  house,  were  gone. 
They  remain  only  as  memories  of  the  past. 
One  day  we  drove  to  my  last  home  in  Salem, 
where  I  lived  between  the  ages  of  five  and 
eighteen,  under  the  shadow  of  dear  old  Mount 
Abram.  I  well  remember  sitting  as  a  child  at 
the  north  window  of  the  old  home  watching 
fanciful  cloud-shadows  gliding  down  the  moun- 
tain side.  As  I  looked  upon  its  graceful  out- 
lines, there  they  were  as  of  old  trooping  down 
over  the  curves  of  its  great  green  side,  and  in 
my  mind  I  saw  the  same  little  girl  at  the  win- 
dow watching  with  big,  gray,  wondering  eyes, 
188 


^ome  ©a?  apad  Bag 


in  which  the  shadow  of  clouds  seemed  to  lin- 
ger, and  I  thanked  God  that  it  was  His  sun- 
shine that  made  the  shadows.  Oh  how  beauti- 
ful the  mountain  looked  to  me  that  day  !  Every 
graceful  line  from  east  to  west  of  the  grand 
old  range  met  its  counterpart  in  the  treasures 
of  my  memory,  and  its  giant  breast  towered 
above  us  like  the  unchangeable  love  of  God. 
The  pastures  with  the  great  flat  rock  at  the 
line  fence  where  we  played  at  housekeeping 
under  the  sheltering  trees  all  were  there,  but  the 
old  house  was  gone.  When  we  came  back 
down  the  hill  in  the  main  road  towards  the 
little  black  brook,  I  saw  the  path  we  used  to 
run  down  for  a  nearer  cut  to  the  road,  stop- 
ping, when  we  had  time  to  throw  pebbles  into 
the  clear  water  and  watch  the  ripples  form,  and 
my  eyes  filled  with  tears  for  the  dear  ones 
whose  little  feet  lingered  there  in  the  beautiful 
long  ago.  All  but  two  of  us  have  long  since 
crossed  the  River. 

When    you    sing    "  Sweet     Home,"    "  Old 
Oaken   Bucket  "  and  "  Auld  Lang  Syne  "  to- 
189 


day,  may  I  hope  that  you  will  send  one  thought 
toward  the  absent  ones,  for  my  heart  will  be 
with  you. 

Letters  of  regret  were  received  also 
from  Mr.  and  Mrs.  H.  G.  Turner  (Jus- 
tina  Heath),  of  Dedham,  Mass.  Mrs. 
Turner  is  the  sister  of  Elbridge  Heath, 
George  Heath,  and  the  late  Albert  Heath. 
She  wrote : 

We  are  very  sorry  not  to  be  with  you  all 
in  the  celebration  of  Old  Home  Day  at  Salem. 
Precious  memories  cluster  around  the  dear  old 
home  of  my  childhood.  It  seems  but  yesterday 
that  I  was  there,  a  little  barefoot  girl  and  very 
happy.  We  had  father,  mother,  and  sister, 
Some  of  them  have  been  called  Home.  God 
bless  their  memory  !  Brother  Elbridge  will  be 
there.  I  am  sorry  not  to  be  with  him.  God 
bless  you  all !  I  do  hope  that  next  year  we  will 
come  together  again  and,  if  spared,  we  shall  be 
with  you. 

And  from  the  following : 
190 


Mrs.  America  Walton,  Lowell,  Mass. 
Mary  Emma  Ellsworth,   Merriarh  Park, 

St.  Paul,  Minn. 

Benjamin  F.  Day,  Westford,  Mass. 
Mrs.  Frank  Wyman   (nee  Clara  L.  Dol- 

bier),  New  Vineyard,  Me. 
Mrs.    F.  C.  Butler    (nee   Nellie  Luce), 

Lowell,  Mass. 
Mrs.  J.  S.  Milliken  (nee  Annie  Lowery 

Williams). 

R.  J.  Mayo,  Philadelphia,  Pa. 
C.    L.     Pottle,    Larimore,    N.   D.,  who 

wrote :  — 

Charles  Bangs  was  a  chum  and  room-mate 
of  mine  while  attending  school  at  Auburn, 
Maine,  in  1865,  I  think.  Walter  Heath  was 
our  teacher  in  the  little,  red  schoolhouse  down 
under  the  hill. 

Albert  E.  Jones,  1 156  Washburn  Avenue, 
Topeka,  Kansas,  who  wrote: — 
A  great   many  of  the  old  families,  such  as 

the  Winslow,  Richards,  Folsom,  and  Davis  fami- 
191 


lies,  and  others,  went  to  Wisconsin   and  Min- 
nesota in  1855-56. 

Clinton  J.  Richards,  Superintendent  of 
Walpole  District,  Walpole,  N.  H., 
writes :  — 

My  grandparents  on  both  sides  were  among 
the  pioneers  of  that  town.  Four  generations 
of  my  mother's  family  are  represented  on  the 
headstones  of  the  old  cemetery  at  Salem. 

J.  N.  Davis,  Grand  Meadow,  Mower 
Co.,  Minn.,  wrote  :  — 

James  Folsom  has  been  dead  for  several  years. 
Melzar  Folsom  is  at  Markesan,  Green  Lake 
Co.,  Wis.  Richard  Folsom  is  at  West  Concord, 
Minn.,  and  Sam  Winslow  at  Mankato,  Minn. 
We  are  well.  I  have  three  children  married 
and  two  younger  ones  at  home  attending  school. 
One  graduates  from  the  High  School  here  this 
spring  and  wants  to  enter  college  in  September. 

George    Clinton    Heath,    Morrison,    111. 
Mr.  Heath  wrote : 
192 


l^otne  2^at  Jttafl 


I  am  the  third  son  of  Simeon  A.  Heath,  who 
was  the  son  of  Elijah  H.  Heath.  My  father's 
brothers  were  Benjamin,  Elijah,  Abraham,  and 
Harrison,  if  I  remember  correctly.  I  was  born 
in  or  near  Salem  in  1854.  Soon  after,  my  father 
removed  to  Hallowell  and  later  he  went  to  Au- 
gusta and  then  to  Boston.  In  1876,  I  came 
West  and  settled  on  the  fertile  prairie  near 
Morrison,  Whiteside  Co.,  111.  My  parents  came 
later.  My  father  died  at  Morrison  in  1891,  and 
is  buried  at  Hallowell,  Maine.  I  have  one  son, 
Stacie  Rose  Heath,  who  is  now  twenty-one  and 
is  located  at  Leavenworth,  Wash. 

Warren  S.  Voter,  West  Farmington,  who 
"was  born  in  Salem,  Me.  in  1845  anc^ 
loves  the  old  town  still,  but  is  unable  to 
come  to  the  reunion  on  account  of  the 
G.  A.  R.  meeting  in  Boston." 

Dr.  Oliver  W.  Turner,  Augusta,  Me.,  son 
of  W.  H.  Turner,  who  was  a  Salemite, 
and  during  his  lifetime  always  interested 
in  the  old  place. 

193 


Jttail 


E.  K.  Humphrey,  Lowell,  Mass.,  born  in 
Salem  and  lived  there  until  four  years 
of  age. 

D.  P.  Blake,  Frankfort,  Indiana,  the  sole 
survivor  of  the  four  brothers  who  went 
West. 

A.  C.  Otis,  Philadelphia,  Pa.,  manager  of 
Union  Mutual  Life  Insurance  Com- 
pany of  Portland,  Me.  ;  nephew  of  Mr. 
D.  P.  Blake  of  Frankfort,  Indiana,  and 
son  of  Mrs.  Lucinda  P.  Otis,  still  living 
at  Readfield,  Maine,  eighty-two  years 
of  age,  and  very  feeble.  Mr.  Otis  wrote  : 
"  I  was  in  Salem  in  September  of  1902. 
The  old  town  looks  very  different  from 
what  it  did  in  the  days  of  my  child- 
hood." 

D.  D.  Graffam,  Phillips,  Maine,  who  left 
Salem  forty  years  ago. 

E.  R.  Heath,  Marblehead,  Mass. 
James  C.  Pottle,  Sanger,  Fresno  Co.,  Col., 

who  left  Salem  in   1870,  and  has  not 
194 


il  Bag 


been  in  the  village  since  1872,  though 
he  was  at  Kingfield  in  1896.  Mr.  Pot- 
tle went  to  North  Dakota  in  1880,  and 
says  that  since  that  time  he  has  not  seen 
a  person  there  he  ever  saw  before,  except 
relatives  who  have  come  out  to  visit 
him. 

Rev.  Ernest  K.  Caswell,  Cambridge,  Mass., 
whose  mother  was  a  Salem  woman. 

Mrs.  Julia  (Hunter)  Tarbox,  sister  of  the 
Editor  of  The  Chronicle,  wrote  as  fol- 
lows :  — 

I  think  I  was  never  in  Salem  more  than 
once.  Several  of  my  father's  uncles,  Dodge  by 
name,  lived  and  died  there,  and  once  with  my 
aunt,  Rachie  Porter,  I  went  to  a  church  social 
at  Mr.  William  Dodge's.  My  father's  mother, 
Rachel  Dodge,  was  a  native  of  Salem,  but  her 
married  life  was  spent  in  Strong,  and  the  visits 
of  my  childhood  with  relatives  in  Strong  are 
some  of  the  brightest  spots  of  my  life. 

Mrs.  Deborah  Howard,  daughter  of  Mr. 


€>U»  i^ome  ®a?  Jftail  I3ag 

Albert  Hayford,  wrote  from  Arkansas 
City,  Kansas,  April   n,   1904:  — 

No  one  would  enjoy  being  there  more  than 
I  would,  but  I  shall  have  to  deny  myself  the 
pleasure,  owing  to  the  long  distance  I  am  from 
Salem.  My  best  wishes  and  prayers,  however, 
will  be  with  you  for  the  success  of  the  meeting. 

There  was  only  one  other  person  here  who 
was  born  in  Salem,  and  he  died  a  few  years  ago. 
He  was  W.  H.  Pottle. 

A  genealogy  of  the  Hayford  family  has  re- 
cently been  published  by  Otis  Hayford  of  Can- 
ton, Maine,  giving  much  interesting  history  of 
that  family,  both  in  England  and  America,  prov- 
ing by  copies  of  old  Plymouth  records  that  it  is 
one  of  the  oldest  families  in  the  country.  With 
John  Alden  and  Myles  Standish,  the  Hayfords 
founded  Duxbury,  Mass. 


196 


REMINISCENCES 

BY  MR.  M.  W.  LOVEJOY 

UNDER  date  of  January  22,  1903,  Mr. 
Lovejoy  wrote  from  Seattle,  Washington, 
as  follows  : 

"  It  would  give  me  a  great  deal  of  pleasure 
to  attend,  but  my  business  affairs  will  prevent 
me  from  so  doing.  I  was  back  there  two  years 
ago  last  summer.  Salem,  the  dear,  old  town 
—  still  the  sweetest  spot  on  this  earth  to  me, 
although  I  have  been  away  from  there  many 
years ! 

"  My  visit  there  two  years  ago  lasted  until 
well  along  into  September.  One  of  that  month's 
loveliest  days,  I  borrowed  a  gun  and  set  out  to 
go  over  my  old  hunting  grounds  around  Mt. 
Abram.  I  believe  now  that  I  borrowed  the  gun 
more  for  the  purpose  of  getting  out  into  the 
woods  alone  than  with  any  intention  of  shoot- 
ing anything.  I  had  not  gone  far  up  the  moun- 

197 


Bemimgcenceg 


tain  side  when  I  came  to  one  of  the  '  old  spots.' 
I  was  quite  willing  to  sit  down  there  and  linger 
for  a  while.  The  sun  had  well  nigh  settled  be- 
hind the  woods  beyond,  but  seemed  to  halt,  as 
it  did  for  Joshua,  and  to  lend  a  little  more  to 
the  scene  I  already  enjoyed.  Presently  several 
squirrels  hopped  along  on  the  ground  and  ca- 
pered, then  leaped  up  a  near-by  tree,  one  after 
the  other.  They  reached  quite  the  top-most 
bough  and  then  opened  up  one  of  the  merriest 
chippers  to  which  I  had  ever  listened.  A  little 
way  beyond,  but  quite  secure,  as  I  suppose  they 
thought,  were  half  a  dozen  blue  jays  talking 
to  me  in  one  of  their  numerous,  saucy  dialects. 
Little  birds  also  were  scratching  and  rustling 
among  the  crisp  leaves  that  had  already  fallen. 
Do  you  suppose  I  fired  a  shot  ?  Not  so.  I 
would  have  thrown  that  old  gun  down  the 
mountain  side  as  far  as  my  strength  would  per- 
mit, first !  The  place  where  I  stood  was  to  me 
holy  ground,  surrounded  by  a  holy  atmosphere, 
and  I  would  not  desecrate  it  by  the  report  of 
a  gun  —  to  say  nothing  of  harming  the  sweet 

198 


Jftr,  Jflu  S>,  JLofoejo? 


company,  the  only  kind  that  I  wanted,  which 
the  good  Lord  had  sent  there  to  entertain  me. 

"  This  trifling  incident  will  show  you  a  little 
of  how  dear  the  old  town  seemed  to  me.  I 
take  a  great  deal  of  pleasure  in  recalling  the  old 
scenes  there.  The  mountain  and  its  green  pas- 
tures, the  plain  below  with  its  winding  stream, 
skirted  with  trees  and  green-topped  bushes, 
form  a  picture  that  often  comes  to  my  mind. 
My  boyhood  days  were  spent  there  during  the 
seventies  and  I  probably  knew  every  person 
who  then  lived  in  the  town.  Many  of  them,  of 
course,  have  passed  away  to  the  better  land 
and  many  are  living  elsewhere.  I  know  the 
addresses  of  but  few  of  those  living  out  of 
town. 

"  You,  no  doubt,  know  of  l  Uncle  Johnny 
Richards.'  He  died  a  year  or  two  ago.  The 
youngest  son,  Clinton,  lives  in  Aroostook 
County  somewhere.  I  do  not  know  his  ad- 
dress. The  oldest,  Isaac  C.,  lives  at  Golden- 

dale,  this  State,  but  I  have  never  seen  him  since 

* 

living  here.    I   am   sure  that  Mr.   George  W. 
199 


Beminigcenceg 


Harris  and  Mr.  Walter  Heath,  old  residents, 
can  give  many  incidents  of  old  town  people 
and  happenings. 

"  If  I  cannot  be  there  in  bodily  presence, 
you  have  the  liberty  to  imagine  me  there  in 
spirit,  enjoying  all  the  good  things  that  may 
take  place." 

August  2,  1904,  Mr.  Lovejoy  wrote 
again  as  follows  :  — 

"  The  thought  of  being  again  in  the  old  town 
and  meeting  old  acquaintances  so  thrilled  me 
that  my  half-formed  resolution  to  attend  your 
meeting  became  almost  completed,  when  the 
other  thought  came  to  me :  *  Your  business 
matters  will  not  permit  you  to  go.'  Could  I 
meet  the  friends  of  my  early  manhood,  which 
was  spent  there  in  the  old  town,  I  certainly 
should  feel  that  this  were  a  little  the  best  joy 
that  had  ever  come  to  me. 

"  Dear  old  Salem,  you  are  to  me,  of  all  places 
on  earth,  the  hallowed  spot !  I  see  you  now  be- 
fore me  —  your  green  fields  and  pastures,  your 

200 


jftr.  jflu  W. 


hills  and  valleys,  your  winding  streams,  your' 
little  hamlet,  your  farm-houses  dotting  the  land- 
scape here  and  there,  and  your  stately  old  moun- 
tain. I  see  moving  figures  on  your  farms,  in 
your  houses,  at  your  schools,  and  within  your 
churches  —  all  of  which  are  a  real  joy  and  an 
inspiration.  I  go  back  to  the  time  when  I  first 
set  foot  on  your  soil,  in  the  year  1868,  and  take 
a  survey  down  to  the  time  when  I  severed  my 
home  connections  there  in  1882. 

"  My  folks  moved  there  in  the  spring  from 
Kingsfield,  about  the  first  of  April.  It  was  a 
warm  day  and  the  footing,  as  usual  about  that 
time  of  the  year,  was  partly  on  snow  and  partly 
on  bare  ground.  We  arrived  there  about  noon 
of  the  day.  I  then  felt  homesick  —  everything 
was  so  different  from  the  place  we  had  left.  It 
all  stands  out  so  clearly  in  my  mind  to-day  ! 
We  were  soon  settled  and  father,  with  the  help 
of  my  brothers,  Orrin,  Frank,  Walter,and  myself, 
began  farming  in  earnest.  It  was  not  long  before 
we  knew  everybody  in  town  and,  I  suppose, 
everybody  there  knew  us.  I  see  now,  passing 

201 


'before  me,  the  faces  of  George  and  John  Briggs, 
Albert  Perry,  David  Harlow,  Josiah  Pease,  John 
Richards  (and  along  the  road  on  which  these 
men  lived  the  little  red  schoolhouse,  at  which  I 
taught  two  or  more  terms),  and  also  the  faces  of 
Uncle  Leadbetter  and  John  Leadbetter ;  and, 
on  another  road,  Samuel  Whitney,  a  Mr.  Gould, 
Eli  Brackley,  Samuel  Perry,  and  William  Dol- 
bier;  then,  going  east  from  the  road  leading  to 
Mt.  Abram,  and  on  which  lived  the  five  last 
named  persons,  by  way  of  Oliver's  Mills,  is  my 
old  home,  and  along  this  road  I  see  the  faces  of 
Uncle  Daniel  Billington,  Frances  Billington  (his 
sister),  Andrew  Davis,  who  later  sold  his  place 
to  Cyrus  Ellsworth,  Rufus  Blake,  Henry  Wills, 
and  Jeremiah  Pottle ;  and,  over  North  and  nearer 
the  mountain,  Thomas  Bradbury,  Trystram 
Davis,  and  Franklin  County's  veteran  school 
teacher,  Charles  Dolbier.  Then,  going  west 
from  the  road  leading  to  the  mountain,  before 
described,  are  Bartlett  Lovejoy,  Daniel  Watson, 
Isaac  Hayford,  Zebedee  Hayford,  Wash.  Keene, 
Uncle  Willis,  William  Seavey,  John  Cunning- 

202 


jftr,  jflu  B>*  JLofcej'o? 


ham,  Roscoe  Heath,  Waterman  Barker,  Ford. 
Voter,  widow  Sarah  Lovejoy,  George  Heath, 
Simeon  Turner,  and  the  Wymans.  Then,  be- 
ginning on  the  so-called  Phillips  Road,  near  the 
town  line,  and  coming  easterly,  I  see  Albert 
Pease,  Philip  Harris,  Uncle  Hodgeman,  Jere- 
miah Ellsworth,  Jonathan  Daggett;  then,  on 
the  road  leading  more  directly  from  Salem  Mills 
to  Strena,  and  going  south,  I  see  Frederick 
Richards,  Uncle  Williams,  who  lived  where 
brother  Walter  now  lives,  Uncle  Mayo,  Nelson 
Harris,  Stephen  Mayo,  and  Freedom  Richards  ; 
going  east  from  the  road  upon  which  these  six 
last  named  lived,  I  see  George  W.  Harris,  Uncle 
Ben  Heath,  Joseph  Dodge,  and,  near  the  foot 
of  the  mill  pond,  in  the  little  dwelling  and  store, 
I  see  a  form  quietly  sitting  and  smoking  his  pipe. 
He  is  looking  down  to  the  floor  and  telling  of 
some  event  that  happened  at  Livermore  many 
years  before.  You  may  know  who  it  is. 

"  I  stand  on  the  little  bridge  leading  across 
the  Curvo,  just  a  little  way  from  the  store  and 
at  the  foot  of  the  mill  pond.  I  look  south  and 

203 


observe  how  pretty  the  pond  is.  On  its  east 
and  north  sides  I  see,  skirted  along  the  water's 
edge,  white  birch,  alders,  willows,  tall  grass,  and 
rushes ;  on  its  west  side,  reaching  out  from  the 
water,  a  wide  green  meadow  extending  for  a 
long  way  north  and,  from  up  among  the  rushes, 
I  hear  the  voices  of  frogs.  Some  of  them  hoarse 
and  guttural,  and  some  of  them  musical.  In  the 
north,  I  see  what  to  me  is  the  grandest  mountain 
in  all  the  world  —  old  Abram.  It  is  a  majestic 
monument.  It  is  silent  and  mysterious  and  speaks 
to  my  soul.  I  don't  know  what  it  is  saying,  in 
all  its  silence  and  mystery,  but  my  soul  answers 
in  its  own  unknown  language  and  I  am  satisfied. 
Resting  there  a  little  while  longer,  I  hear  the 
hum  of  the  mills  just  below  the  bridge  and  -I  see 
moving  about  them  the  faces  of  George  Mills 
and  Fred,  and  later  of  Samuel  Hinds  and  son, 
Warren.  The  elder  is  attending  to  the  grinding 
of  grains  and  Warren  is  attending  to  the  saw. 
I  see  men  with  teams  taking  away  newly-sawed 
lumber  and  grists  from  the  flour  mill.  Uncle 
Hodgeman  has  just  gone  away  with  his  bag  of 

204 


newly-made  flour.  He  sits  erect  in  the  middle 
of  the  wagon  seat  and  his  horse  is  speeding  away 
as  though  she  were  anxious  to  get  back  to  the 
pasture. 

"  Bart  Lovejoy  is  driving  the  best  yoke  of 
oxen  in  town,  he  believes,  loaded  with  a  big 
spruce,  towards  the  saw  mill;  and  Luther  Childs 
is  standing  near  by  whittling,  and  looking  on  as 
though  he  were  interested.  Uncle  Willis  is  sit- 
ting on  the  steps  of  Mr.  Graffam's  store  reading 
the  New  York  World,  and  Jimmie  Keene  is 
waiting  at  the  post  office  for  his  mail.  Edwin 
Hayford  is  there  with  Clarion,  and  is  trying  to 
get  Clarion  to  go  back  home  with  him.  Clarion 
says  he  will  go  l  in  a  minute  '  —  but  forgets. 

"  My  mind's  kinetoscope  works  again.  It  is 
Sunday.  We  are  at  the  town  house.  Reverend 
Albert  Heath  is  the  preacher.  Everybody  who 
can  get  into  the  building  is  there.  We  like  to 
hear  him.  He  is  earnest,  tender  hearted,  and 
eloquent.  .  .  .  Another  Sunday,  and  the  preacher 
is  Elder  Leonard  Hutchins.  We  all  listen  with 
earnest  interest.  We  know  him  to  be  heartily 

205 


ffiemintecenceg 


interested  for  us  all.  There  are  Freedom  Rich- 
ards, Nelson  Harris,  Mrs.  George  Harris,  and 
Olive  Hinds  in  the  choir. 

"  The  scene  again  changes.  It  is  winter.  Who 
are  teaching  in  the  schools  ?  George  W.  Har- 
ris, Charles  Dolbier,  and  Carrie  Nash.  Walter 
Heath  is  Superintendent.  One  District  has  a 
twelve  weeks  term,  one  ten,  and  one  eight ;  but 
scholars  in  one  district  are  about  equal  in  profi- 
ciency to  those  -in  the  others.  The  shorter  the 
term,  the  harder  they  study.  The  winter  is  long 
and  cold.  We  have  revival  meetings  going  on 
during  the  evenings.  Some  are  converted  to  stay  j 
but  some,  not  at  the  time  thinking  how  hard  it 
is  to  leave  off  old  habits  and  reform  the  char- 
acter, go  back  into  the  old  ways.  They  remain 
good  citizens  but  feel  strange  and  restrained  in 
trying  to  keep  within  church  ways.  Some,  even, 
feel  thus  who  yet  are  Christians  in  all  the  term 
implies. 

"  It  is  summer  again  and  more  scenes  are 
presented.  I  am  walking  towards  the  old  moun- 
tain. The  hot  sun,  double-disked,  is  looking 

206 


,  Jtiu  W.  lofce/o? 


steadily  down  from  the  deep  blue  sky.  I  see 
the  heated  atmosphere  shimmering  over  green 
fields  and  pastures.  I  hear  the  ravishing  music 
of  the  thrush,  hidden  in  the  little  thicket  near 
by.  I  hear  the  droning  murmur  of  wild  bees 
flitting  about  and  searching  among  wild  flowers, 
and  I  hear  the  voices  of  lowing  cattle  pastured 
on  the  mountain  slope.  From  some  distant 
tree  comes,  swelling  over  the  land,  the  long- 
drawn-out  buzz  of  the  harvest-fly.  Noisy  brooks 
are  coursing  their  way  down  the  mountain  side, 
and  the  old  mountain,  in  all  its  majesty  — 
time-defying  —  stands  pointing  to  the  mysteri- 
ous blue  above.  Such  as  these  give  one  a  spell 
that  is  never  forgotten,  and  ought  not  to  be. 
I  pause,  lost  in  wonder  and  ecstasy.  I  look 
again  and  the  sun  has  settled  behind  the  west- 
ern slope.  The  air  is  cooler  and  is  in  song  with 
myriads  of  insects.  Grasshoppers  have  begun 
to  lisp  and  crickets  to  chirp.  The  cuckoo  is 
singing  in  the  valley  below.  Scattered  little 
frogs  are  piping  to  each  other  their  calls  and 
answers.  I  am  a  little  lonely,  but  it  is  sweeter 

207 


-Benuntecenceg 


to  stay  than  to  go,  and  I  remain  until  the  music 
has  ceased. 

"  I  love  the  old  town.  It  was  here  that  I 
first  caught  a  glimpse  of  the  world  as  it  is.  It 
was  here  that  I  came  to  manhood,  was  seized 
with  ambitions,  met  with  little  disappointments, 
and  won  little  successes  —  in  short,  it  was  here 
that  I  caught  a  glimpse  of  the  world-school 
discipline  that  I  was  to  receive  and  now  have 
received. 

"  I  have  given  the  names  of  many  of  the 
older  people  who  resided  there  when  I  did,  es- 
pecially during  the  early  part  of  my  residence. 
I  remember  them  all,  and  all  the  younger  people. 
What  a  pleasure  it  would  be  to  me  to  meet  them 
and  shake  their  hands.  Nearly  all  these  older 
residents  have  now  passed  over  to  the  silent 
majority. 

"  How  much  praise  we  ought  to  give  to  those 
old  settlers.  Think  what  large  families  some  of 
them  brought  up  to  become  citizens  of  our  be- 
loved country  !  Many  of  them  have  made  the 
world  better  for  having  lived  in  it.  I  wonder, 

208 


when  I  observe  how  much  easier  it  is  now  to  get 
a  livelihood  than  it  used  to  be,  how  these  parents 
with  their  small  farms,  some  of  them  rough 
and  hard  to  work,  could,  with  the  little  means 
at  their  command,  have  accomplished  so  much. 
I  know  it  could  have  happened  only  by  working 
very  hard,  nearly  or  quite  all  the  day,  and  often 
by  burning  midnight  oil. 

u  I  wish  I  had  the  time  to  speak  of  all  those 
I  knew  —  residents  of  Salem  —  but  I  have  not, 
and,  too,  it  would  take  up  too  much  of  your  time 
to  read  what  I  should  say ;  but  there  are  some 
whose  faces  stand  out  so  vividly  in  my  mind 
that  I  will  venture  to  make  mention  of  them. 
I  observe,  on  your  programme,  that  you  are  to 
have  present  with  you  Mrs.  C.  F.  Underwood 
(nee  Carrie  Nash).  She  was  a  teacher  in  the 
school  that  used  to  be  in  the  north  part  of  the 
town,  located  on  the  road  leading  from  my  old 
home  to  Oliver's  Mills.  I  do  not  remember  what 
winter  it  was,  but  I  was  one  of  her  pupils  and 
am  glad  I  was.  I  remember  very  distinctly  some 
of  her  work  and  some  events  connected  directly 

209 


ISemfntecenceg 


or  indirectly  with  the  school.  If  I  were  present, 
I  am  sure  I  should,  in  addressing  her,  call  her, 
some  times  at  least,  Carrie.  And  that  is  what  we 
called  her  when  she  was  our  teacher.  I  believe 
she  did  not  object,  and  we  all  thought  it  better 
than  to  say  thosefreezy  words,  Miss  Nash.  Well, 
now,  I  would  say :  c  Carrie,  don't  you  remem- 
ber when  you  and  some  of  the  pupils  that  were 
riding  with  you  got  thrown  out  of  the  big  pung 
into  the  snow  near  the  bridge  crossing  the  little 
brook  that  runs  near  the  present  site  of  the  old 
schoolhouse,  and  that  you,  in  your  tumble,  made 
a  large  hole  in  the  snow  ?  And  don't  you  remem- 
ber that  that  funny  old  fellow,  Silas  Handy,  who 
then  was  making  his  home  with  Mr.  Billington, 
who  lived  near  the  school  building,  said  that 
when  he  saw  that  hole  in  the  snow  he  "  smelled 
a  rat "  ?  His  remark,  I  remember,  was  very 
amusing  to  you  at  the  time.  I  thought  then 
that  the  old  fellow  Handy  said  what  he  did  in  a 
figurative  way — meaning  that  from  the  imprint 
in  the  snow  he  thought  a  serious  accident  had 
taken  place ;  but,  since  that,  I  have  thought  it 

210 


might  be  that  he  thought  that  there  were  rats  large 
enough  to  make  a  hole  as  large  as  the  one  in  the 
snow  and  that  one  of  them  had  the  night  before 
passed  that  way.  You  remembered  the  spot  for 
some  time,  as  you  designated  it  as  the  place 
where  "Uncle  Silas  smelled  the  rat."  One  other 
event  I  will  relate:  You  taught  us  a  lesson  in 
geography  that  went  in  rhyme.  The  first  stanza 
ran  like  this  :  — 

This  earth  on  which  we  live  is  round 
As  any  apple  ever  found  ; 

And,  as  the  flies  on  apples  crawl, 
So  men  pass  round  this  earthly  ball. 

We  were  repeating  this  one  day,  in  concert, 
when  one  of  the  boys,  I  don't  like  to  say  who 
the  boy  was,  dropped  out  of  the  ranks  and  took 
up  something  that  seemed  more  exciting.  You, 
without  losing  your  grip  on  the  poem,  quietly 
pushed  your  fingers  through  the  boy's  front  hair 
and,  when  I  looked  up,  the  boy's  head  was  keep- 
ing accurate  time  with  the  accents  of  the  poem. 
He  was  good  natured  and  aided  you  all  he  could. 
I  laughed,  but  not  then  and  there,  mind  you, 

211 


ffiemtntecenceg 


and  thought  what  a  funny  thing  it  was  to  use  a 
boy's  head  for  a  baton.' 

"  Of  the  pupils  in  the  school,  besides  my  own 
brothers  and  sisters,  I  see  Charles  Blake,  George 
Blake,  LaForest,  Fred  and  Frank  Ellsworth, 
Will  McKeen,  Lucy  and  Olinda  McKeen, 
Clara,  Mahala,  and  Amos  Dolbier,  Herman  and 
Charles  Lovejoy,  Otis  Heath,  and  many  other 
and  younger  faces. 

"  Over  in  the  John  Richards'  District,  as  we 
used  to  designate  it,  I  used  to  visit  before  I 
taught  there,  and  also  at  the  Mills  School.  At 
the  former  I  see  Isaac,  Freedom,  and  Clinton 
Richards,  all  close  students ;  Odell  and  Charles 
Whitney,  John,  Emma,  Louisa,  and  Ella  Briggs  ; 
and,  at  the  latter,  there  were  George,  Nella,  and 
Mary  Richards,  Frank  Graffam,  and  George 
Willis,  who  found  it  hard  work  to  get  over  a 
funny  thought ;  Olive  Hinds  and  Ella  Daggett, 
both  very  matter-of-fact,  Ellen  Williams,  more 
or  less  sober,  and  Jennie,  her  sister,  with  a  half 
sober,  kindly  face,  but  who  saw  more  of  the 
comic  than  of  the  serious  side  of  life.  Ed  and 


212 


Jttr*  jtiu  m  lobe/o? 


Emmons  Harris  were  there,  the  latter  never 
without  a  smile  ;  John  Ellsworth,  a  good  mimic 
and  more  or  less  original  j  his  brother  Ossian, 
and  their  sister,  whose  name  I  have  now  for- 
gotten. Celestia  Hayford,  who  built  castles  in 
the  air,  Ella  Hayford,  who  wondered  why  things 
are  as  they  are,  and  Edwin  and  Clarion  Hayford 
are  all  studying  —  some  in  silence  and  some 
reading  their  lessons  over  in  a  whisper.  It  is  a 
cold  day.  The  wind  is  whistling  and  sighing 
and  the  snow  is  sifting  on  the  outside.  The 
roar  of  the  fire  in  the  old  barrel  stove,  the  noise 
of  slate  pencils,  and  moving  feet,  and  the  busy 
study,  with  some  whispering,  all  combined  have 
a  charm  for  me.  It  is  one  of  the  noises  felt  to 
be  necessary  in  the  great  march  of  progress.  It 
is  a  mill  that  is  turning  out  something  that  will 
be  useful  to  the  world. 

"  It  seems  but  yesterday  that  I  was  a  pupil 
in  one  of  the  schools  of  Charles  Dolbier.  We 
always  called  him  Charles.  To  him  I,  too,  owe 
a  great  deal.  He  taught  more  than  the  texts 
in  the  schoolbooks.  He  was  a  foe  to  whims. 

213 


Bcmintecenceg 


He  did  not  believe  in  ghosts,  but  he  did  believe 
that  we  have  a  right  to  prove  all  things  and 
hold  fast  to  those  that  are  good. 

"  Four  years  ago  this  summer  I  was  back 
there  on  a  visit.  My  home,  as  many  of  you 
may  know,  is  now  and  has  been  for  nearly  six- 
teen years  at  Seattle,  Washington,  more  than 
three  thousand  miles  away.  I  remember  the 
first  morning  after  my  arrival.  When  I  awoke, 
I  wondered  if  it  were  really  true  that  I  was  back 
in  the  old  town  —  I  had  so  often  dreamed  of 
being  there  before  and  my  dreams  had  had  such 
a  seeming  reality  that,  as  true  as  I  write  this,  I 
thought :  c  What  test  shall  I  make  to  prove 
that  I  am  really  here  at  Salem  ? '  I  had  only 
to  get  up  and  say,  *  Good  morning  '  to  my  folks, 
look  about  me,  and  the  reality  was  apparent. 

"  During  my  visit,  I  went  over  to  see  the  old 
home.  There  it  stood  in  silence,  save  when  the 
summer  breeze  hissed  around  its  walls  and  roofs, 
deserted.  No  familiar  face  there  to  look  upon. 
No  voice  to  greet  me.  All  gone,  forever  gone  ! 
The  very  thought  choked  me.  But  I  said  to 

214 


Jftr.  Jtt*  1&  JLofcejo? 


myself,  4  This  is  the  way  of  the  earth  and 
earthly  idols  fall.  Cheer  up  and  think  of  the 
brighter  side.'  There  was  the  old  well  whose 
cooling  water  I  had  so  often  tasted,  but  whose 
oaken  bucket  had  long  ago  been  cast  aside.  And 
back  of  the  house  was  the  large  rock  on  which 
I  had  so  many  times  stood  and  watched  the 
moon  and  stars  and  looked  at  the  old  moun- 
tain and  the  outlying  landscape.  They  seemed 
natural  and  it  was  a  pleasure  to  me  to  look  at 
them. 

"  But  my  letter  is  already  too  long  and  the 
audience  who  may  hear  it  are,  I  perceive,  already 
weary.  I  should  be  pleased  to  mention  more 
names  of  persons  that  I  know  at  Salem  and  the 
many  kindnesses  that  old  friends  there  have 
shown  me.  I  want  to  say  this  :  There  is  not  a 
person  living  there,  nor  any  of  those  who  are 
sleeping  in  that  quiet  little  cemetery,  or  else- 
where, to  whom  I  bear  the  least  ill-will.  It  is 
a  pleasure  to  me  to  think  of  them.  I  shall  al- 
ways hold  them  as  the  choicest  treasures  of  my 
memory. 

215 


Eemintecenceg 


"  You  will  have  a  good  time  at  your  meet- 
ing and  during  the  week.  I  hope  it  will  be  my 
good  fortune  to  be  with  you  when  you  meet 
again." 


216 


A    REMINISCENCE 

RELATED  BY  MRS.  OTIS  OF  READFIELD 

Formerly  Miss  Lucinda  Blake 

Under  date  of  March  17,  1903,  Mrs. 
C.  F.  Underwood  wrote  : 

"  I  passed  a  day  last  week  with  Mrs.  Otis 
of  Readfield,  formerly  Miss  Lucinda  Blake. 
She  has  been  an  invalid  for  many  years.  Being 
now  past  eighty,  she  is  much  enfeebled  in  body, 
but  mentally  has  not  failed  accordingly.  She 
remembers  when  that  part  of  Salem  where  her 
father  located  was  almost  an  unbroken  wilder- 
ness. She  remembers  when  the  land  was  being 
cleared  and  when  but  a  very  few  temporary 
homes  were  built.  I  think  that  the  Pottles's, 
Briggs's,  Ellsworths's,  and  her  father's  houses 
were  all  built  within  a  short  time  after  her  father 
went  there.  She  cannot  tell  just  when  the  main 
East  Road  was  made,  but  remembers  that  it 
was  when  she  was  a  small  child.  Her  father 
first  erected  a  rude  habitation,  then  a  better  one, 

217 


ffiemintecence 


and  afterward  he  built  a  fine  substantial  brick 
house,  which  was  as  solid  as  masonry  could 
make  it,  and  which  stood  firm  upon  its  founda- 
tion until  within  thirty  years,  when  the  l  fire 
fiend '  destroyed  it,  with  all  the  out-buildings, 
including  a  barn  which,  at  the  time,  was  said 
to  be  the  best  in  Franklin  County.  She  had 
heard  of  the  floors  in  the  first  old  homes,  which 
were  made  of  some  kind  of  bark  ;  and  the  brooms 
were  always  of  cedar  or  hemlock.  Her  hus- 
band's mother,  Mrs.  Otis  of  Kingfield,  always 
declared  that  her  happiest  years  were  spent,  not 
in  her  fine  and  more  modern  home,  but  in  the 
old  log  cabin  with  the  '  bark  floor  '  which  she 
took  so  much  pride  in  sweeping  with  her  c  hem- 
lock broom.' 

"  I  think  I  promised  to  try  to  get  the  facts 
relative  to  the  narrow  escape  from  tragic  death 
of  Elbridge  Blake  when  he  was  a  small  boy, 
nine  years  old.  Mrs.  Otis  related  the  story  to 
me  in  every  detail,  as  she  recollected  it  very 
clearly.  Her  brothers,  Elbridge  and  Daniel, 
were  sent  for  the  cows  toward  night  and  were 

218 


told  to  bring  home  some  l  brown  stuff'  with 
them.  Elbridge  looked  after  the  latter,  while  his 
brother  drove  the  cows  home.  It  was  perhaps 
half  a  mile  from  their  home,  down  toward  the 
Kingfield  road,  and  all  woods,  excepting  small 
clearings  where  the  cows  pastured.  Elbridge, 
emerging  from  the  thicket  with  his  *  brown 
stuff,'  found  himself  confronted  with  a  pack  of 
howling  wolves.  He  was  near  a  small,  slender 
tree,  and,  as  rapidly  as  possible,  he  climbed  it 
until  he  felt  that  it  was  bending.  The  situation 
was  frightful.  He  knew  that  wolves  could  not 
climb,  but  if  the  branch  which  he  was  grasp- 
ing with  both  hands  should  bend  low  or  break, 
he  would  be  at  their  mercy.  His  screams  and 
shouts  were  finally  heard  by  Mr.  Briggs,  who 
lived  in  a  diagonal  direction,  perhaps  a  quarter 
of  a  mile  distant  from  him.  Mr.  Briggs,  fearing 
that  it  was  the  voice  of  a  child,  and  suspecting 
the  cause,  ran  speedily  up  to  Mr.  Blake's  and 
breathlessly  inquired  if  all  their  children,  nine  in 
all,  were  at  home.  They  replied  that  all  were 
there  but  Elbridge.  l  Faith,  then,'  said  Uncle 

219 


Beminfecence 


Briggs,  '  the  wolves  have  got  him  !  '  The  brick 
walls  of  the  new  Blake  house  were  about  half 
completed.  There  were  masons  and  a  number 
of  others  employed  there,  and  they  were  about 
finishing  their  day's  work.  They  instantly  took 
in  the  situation.  Trowels  and  other  implements 
were  thrown  hither  and  yon,  and,  with  the  older 
members  of  the  family,  the  workmen  rushed  to 
the  rescue.  Mrs.  Otis  says  that  their  yells  were 
like  the  savage  war  whoop  and  echoed  loud  and 
long  through  that  wild,  lonely  region.  Elbridge 
remembers  that  during  all  this  interval  the  wolves 
closely  and  entirely  surrounded  the  tree,but  could 
do  nothing  but  look  up  at  him.  He  understood 
what  all  the  noise  in  the  distance  meant,  and 
took  courage.  The  wolves  4  appeared  to  look  at 
each  other  and,  in  their  own  language,  to  won- 
der what  turn  they  would  better  take.'  The 
hideous  sounds  of  the  rescuers  had  the  desired 
effect,  and,  at  first  sight  of  the  men,  the  wolves 
scattered  and  fled  in  all  directions  toward  the 
woods.  The  boy  Elbridge  was  helped  out  of 
the  frightful  situation.  Safe  within  the  fold  that 

220 


night,  who  can  doubt  that  praise  and  thanks- 
giving filled  every  heart  for  so  miraculous  an 
escape  ? 

"  Mrs.  Otis  said  that  this  was  but  one  instance 
of  many  similar  ones,  that  the  dangers  were 
many,  and  that  it  was  absolutely  unsafe  for  chil- 
dren, or  even  grown  people,  to  go  far  from  their 
homes,  alone  or  unarmed.  She  said  that  they 
afterward  resorted  to  fencing  in,  or  confining, 
their  stock  —  horses,  cattle,  and  sheep  —  and 
throwing  poison  all  through  the  woods,  until, 
after  a  time,  the  wolves  grew  scarce. 

"  I  asked  in  reference  to  bears.  c  Oh,'  she 
said,  *  they  did  n't  make  much  account  of  bears 
compared  with  wolves  ! '  She  had  quite  a  laugh, 
and  spoke  as  though  a  bear  was  of  very  little 
consequence. 

"  One  thing,  doubtless,  you  know  —  that 
Salem  was  incorporated  January  10,  1823,  under 
the  name  of  North  Salem,  and  was  formed  from 
parts  of  Freeman,  Phillips,  and  Bingham's  Pur- 
chase." 

221 


OLD  HOME   DAY 
REGISTER 

Among  those  who  were  present  from  a 
distance  were  — 

D.  C.   Heath  of  Boston,  Mass. 

Elbridge  G.  Heath  of  Auburn. 

Rev.  Abel  W.  Pottle  of  Lisbon  Falls. 

Hon.  George  Pottle  and  Mrs.  Pottle  of  Lewiston. 

Dr.  and  Mrs.  A.  W.  Stinchfield  of  Rochester,  Minn. 

Miss  Laura  Stinchfield. 

Mr.  and    Mrs.  Charles    Bangs  and    daughter  Jean  of 

Everett,  Mass. 

Mr.  and  Mrs.  Charles  Porter  of  Westbrook. 
Florian  Porter  of  Eustis. 
Hon.  and  Mrs.  Joel  Wilbur  of  Phillips. 
Fred  F.  Pease  of  Livermore  Falls. 
Mr.   and(  Mrs.  V.   H.   Foss,  nee  Althea  Heath,   of 

Bangor. 

Dr.  and  Mrs.  E.  C.  Merrill  of  Farmington. 
Mr.  and  Mrs.  H.  W.  Gilman,  nee  Annie  Porter,  of 

Farmington. 

222 


Mr.  and  Mrs.  H.  H.  Rice,  nee  Ida  Porter,  and  daugh- 
ter Bertha  of  Farmington. 

Mr.  and  Mrs.  George  Underwood,  nee  Carrie  Nash, 
of  Fayette. 

Mr.  and  Mrs.  John  C.  Leadbetter  of  Farmington. 

Mrs.  M.  Wills  of  Strong. 

George  Winslow  of  Strong. 

Mr.  and  Mrs.  G.  F.  Beal  of  Phillips. 

Mr.  and  Mrs.  R.  H.  Cunningham,  nee  Lula  Ellsworth, 
and  daughter  of  Kingfield. 

Augustus  Page  of  Kingfield. 

Mrs.  Mary  Larrabee  of  Kingfield. 

D.  Schuyler  Austin  of  New  York  City. 

Mr.  and  Mrs.  R.  Jennings  of  Fairfield. 

Mr.  and  Mrs.  Almon  A.  Carville,  nee  Celestia  Hay- 
ford,  and  daughter  of  Farmington. 

Mrs.  Melvina  Hayford  Stewart  of  Farmington. 

Mrs.  Marcia  Knapp  of  Newark,  N.  J. 

Miss  Lelia  Briggs  of  Farmington. 

Mrs.  Sarah  Jones,  nee  Sarah  Leadbetter,  of  Farmington. 

Frank  King  of  Skowhegan. 

Columbus  Hayford  of  Presque  Isle. 

Mr.  and  Mrs.  Benjamin  Dodge  of  West  Freeman. 

Mrs.  Hannah  Harlow  Morrell  of  Strong. 

Mr.  Fred  Morrell. 

223 


Miss  Lilla  Morrell. 

Earl  Brackley  of  Strong. 

J.  Harvey  Dodge  of  Strong. 

Mr.  and  Mrs.  C.  B.  Richardson  of  Strong. 

Miss  Helen  Richardson. 

Miss  Bessie  Hunter  of  Strong. 

Mrs.  L.  .Hunter  of  Strong. 

Mr.  and  Mrs.  Horace  Libby  of  Madrid. 

Mr  and  Mrs.  J.  H.  Heath  of  Farmington. 

Mr.  and  Mrs.  L.  Worthley  of  Strong. 

Mr.  and  Mrs.  R.  Knowlton  of  Strong. 

Mrs.  Frank  Knowlton,  nee  Belle  Towle,  of  Strong. 

Miss  Claire  Knowlton. 

Henry  Allen  of  Strong. 

Mr.  and  Mrs.  Augustus  Briggs  of  Strong. 

Amos  True  of  Strong. 

Mrs.  Olive  Dodge  of  Strong. 

Frank  Knowlton  of  Strong. 

Mrs.  A.  C.  Nickerson,  nee  Mahala  Dolbier,  of  Fairbanks. 

Miss  Maud  Nickerson. 

Miss  Pearl  Nickerson. 

Mrs.  Almeda  Clausen,  nee  Cunningham,  of  Lowell, 

Mass. 
Mr.  and  Mrs.  George  French,  nee  Viola  Cunningham, 

and  son,  of  Lowell,  Mass. 
224 


Eegfetet 


John  Dolbier  of  Kingfield. 

Charles  Dolbier  of  Kingfield. 

Miss  Julia  H.  May  of  Strong. 

Mr.  and  Mrs.  Dennis  Clark,  nee  Dodge,  of  Strong. 

Miss  Blanche  Clark  of  Strong. 

Mrs.   E.   A.   Dodge,  nee  Cleora   Hayford,   and  son 

Chester  of  Providence,  R.  I. 
Mrs.  Flora  E.  Thomas,  nee  Richards,   of  Lawrence, 

Mass. 

Mrs.  Jennie  Carver,  nee  Richards,  of  Leeds. 
Mrs.  Warren  Dodge  of  Farmington. 
Mr.  and  Mrs.  Charles  H.  Graffam  of  Lewiston. 
Mrs.  Eugene  Dunton,  neeSabr'ma.  Lovejoy,  and  daugh- 
ter of  Lewiston. 
Harry  Perkins  of  Wilton. 
Mrs.  John  Lowell,  nee  Nella  Richards,  of  Lawrence, 

Mass. 
Mr.  and  Mrs.  John  Robinson,  nee  Ellen  Ellsworth, 

of  Farmington. 

Mrs.  Bert  Millett  of  Farmington. 
Mr.  and  Mrs.   Daniel  Graffam,  nee  Sarah  Witham, 

of  Phillips. 

M.  B.  Pottle  of  Portland. 
Mr.  and  Mrs.  Silas  Dunham,  nee  Emma  Childs,   of 

Madrid. 

225 


Mrs.  George  K.  Richards  of  Kingfield. 

Ira  Blanchard  of  Kingfield. 

Mr.  and  Mrs.  Marshall  Lander  of  Kingfield. 

Mr.  and  Mrs.  S.  F.  Brackley,  nee  Ida  Lovejoy,   of 
Freeman. 

Clarence  Blackwell  of  Rhode  Island. 

Fred  Weymouth  of  Freeman. 

Sumner  A.  Lovejoy  of  West  Freeman. 

Mrs.    Elizabeth   L.    Harris,  nee   Heath,   of  Lowell, 
Mass. 

Mrs.  Elizabeth  Smith,  nee  Harris,  of  Lowell,  Mass. 

Mrs.  Carrie  Harrison,  nee  Harris,  of  Lowell,  Mass. 

Mrs.  Addie  Marshall,  nee  Harris,  of  Lowell,  Mass. 

George  F.  Briggs  of  Farmington. 

Mrs.  Adeline  Curtis  Daggett  of  Strong. 

Mr.  and   Mrs.  Melzor  Fulsom,  nee  Dorcas  Clark,  of 
Wisconsin. 

Miss  Edith  Luce  of  Lowell,  Mass. 

Mr.  and  Mrs.  Benjamin   Peabody,  nee  Mahala  Ells- 
worth, of  St.  Paul,  Minnesota. 

Mrs.  O.  M.  Jennings  of  Farmington. 

Mrs.  A.  L.  Brown  and  son  Theo.  of  Fairbanks. 

Mrs.  C.  J.  Mayo  of  Walpole,  N.  H. 

Mrs.  Stephen  Mayo,  nee  Ella  Daggett,  of  Strong. 

Mrs.  Lovina  Lovejoy  True  of  Strong. 
226 


Eegteter 


Mrs.  Lydia  Graffam  Greely,  Somerville,  Mass. 

Mr.  Andrew  J.  Davis,  New  Portland,  Me. 

Mr.  Will  Blake. 

Mr.  Reuben  Richards,  Gorham,  N.  H. 

Mr.  Frank  L.  King,  Skowhegan,  Me. 

Mr.  Geo.  E.  Dodge,  Carmel,  Me. 

Mrs.  E.  L.  Dunton,  nee  Lovejoy,  Lewiston,  Me. 

Mrs.  Clara  Lovejoy  Buller,  New  Portland,  Me. 

Mr.    and    Mrs.    Ira    Davenport,    nee   Emma  Voter, 

Phillips,  Me. 
Mr.   and  Mrs.   John   Shepherd,   nee  Calistia   Voter, 

Phillips,  Me. 


227 


39C55 


A     000  675  458     4 


